Wonderland
by ohsweetnightingale
Summary: Anastasia Steele, a young woman raised on romantic ideals of love becomes thrust into an arranged marriage with billionaire Christian Grey. With every passing day, her ideals are tested and shattered as his hate for her becomes blatantly obvious. But with hate comes effort and with effort comes desire to which Ana's quiet strength tests along the same path.
1. Prologue

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**Prologue**

The walls paled with the loss of her mother. Ana could feel the death in their house still lingering and clinging to the framed portraits of happier times. One week. She couldn't believe one week had passed without the presence of her mother. Even though the last couple weeks her mother spent mostly unconscious with only brief periods of lucidity, Ana always felt her. She reveled in the comfort that her mother was still there, that if she wanted she could go to her bedside and hold her hand or lie next to her. The loss of that security was excruciating.

Everyone had left. They wore black and carried trays and bowls of food. She never understood why people always resorted to bringing frozen dinners and deserts but now she knew. With an entire baking pan of brownies in her lap, she definitely understood. There was comfort in feeding your depression, or the fallacy that you're feeding that void you now have. She felt semi-productive until she started crying and the salty taste of her tears dampened her appetite.

She had yet to truly cry for all of her pain. For some, they believed it to be expectation. Her mother's death wasn't sudden or unexpected. It came and it happened with no urgency. She could only be grateful she was there for it. With extreme detail, she could remember it. Lying next to her, Ana read to her mother as she took her last breath.

Inhale.

"It goes on, you know, the Hatter continued, in this way:-" Ana read waiting for her mother to release the air from her lungs. The story of Alice's adventures in Wonderland held a special place for them both. It was Ana's first favorite story and ironically the last her mother ever heard.

"Up above the world you fly,

Like a tea-tray in the sky."

Exhale.

That was it.

The moment held no real dramatic change, just silence. She exhaled and then stopped. Time continued its count and despite her dramatic effort, Ana still breathed. She had never known a greater weight than that of silence next to her mother. Her hospice nurse checked her nonexistent vitals and Ana just lay there next to her with tears falling in rivers down her cheeks.

Before she could reminisce more, she stuffed another brownie into her mouth and abandoned her art studio. Her capped paint bottles sat still and unused and her paint brushes dry with even worse neglect. The halls were too quiet besides the faint sound of Ruth, their housekeeper, in the kitchen probably trying to make room in the refrigerator and freezer for all that food.

Everything felt different. The house lacked the warmth she once always related with home but it was warmer than outside or anywhere else. Her memories kept her firmly and restlessly contained within the walls of her estate. She truly had no idea what to do now without the purpose of caring for her mother. Lord knows she could always paint and although she still managed to receive her Bachelors degree in Fine Arts from Cornish, she still needed to do something. Painting eluded her right now and her client list for her feminine portraits dwindled within the past year. They were too high maintenance and demanding in a time period where she just couldn't accommodate. It's hard to paint for women whose only efforts as friends of her mother's were to send flowers and run charities on her behalf more for their damn status than her mother or the organizations themselves. Rage bubbled quickly to the surface and she killed it with yet another brownie. She could feel her sugar coma swiftly approaching.

Padding down the hall still dressed in her black dress from the funeral, she could hear the distant sounds of a conversation drifting from her father's office. As she moved towards the staircase, she stopped when she heard her name escape the slightly ajar door. Quieting her footsteps, she softly set down the pan of brownies as she listened. It was her father's voice she heard first.

"I need to sell but I can't. I can't lose this house. I need your help Carrick." Her father's voice shook as he asked for help the same way her hands trembled as she listened. Always nosy and too protective of a father who'd completely wandered into the woods and tied himself to a tree so life could beat him to a pulp, she inched closer to the door.

"What kind of help?" She heard the sounds of them both sitting down and she leaned in closer. On the verge of tears that they ran the possibility of losing their estate, she covered her mouth with her hand to try to keep her emotions at bay. She truly had no idea of the financial strain. Of course she knew her mother's medical expenses had grown especially with private hospice care at home but her father never once hinted that they needed to sell their home. Her father quit his job five years ago when Carla entered her first round of chemo unaware that it was only the first round of many.

"I need money Carrick." Her father replied with a sigh of resignation. Ana could feel the burn of her lungs as she with all her heart couldn't handle another loss. Hell, her father couldn't either.

"Raymond, I have a proposition for you." Carrick spoke listlessly. Her hands twined viciously as she waited. "I'll loan you what you need free of monetary charge."

"What is it that you want if not monetary payment." She could hear the suspicion laced with her father's words like a vine growing with every moment of silence. Once again, the soundless space weighed heavy on her.

"I want Ana."

"What?" Her eyes grew wide as Carrick's request finally registered. Her? What about her?

"I want Ana to marry Christian."

"What the fuck for? Your son can find himself a wife."

"My son can do many things but finding an appropriate wife doesn't seem to be one of them. Your family still holds some influence in this city."

"I will not involve my daughter in your ridiculous games! Get out!"

Ana scanned the halls, the mahogany wainscoting and floral wall paper all handpicked by her mother. Her father built this home specifically for her from the décor to amenities. This was his most precious gift to her, his greatest measure of his love. And the memories… This was her first home and her mother's last. More tears welled as she had a vision of herself as a child dragging her tired parents down the hall with all the excitement of a child and that her parents lacked. With both of her hands secured by them both, it was perfect. They were all happy.

"I'll do it." She uttered as she stormed into the office.

"Ana, no!" Her father interjected but she couldn't face him now. She wasn't above doing whatever it took to save their estate, to save the walls that housed every memory first and last that she had of her mother. And she wasn't above doing whatever necessary to save her father because losing this house so close to losing their mother would kill him. Her heart pounded against her rib cage intimidating her bones with menacing speed.

"Dad, I can't allow us to lose this house. It's all we have left." She argued with every ounce of restraint of her tears. Carrick stood before her with neither a smile nor pity. He simply looked like a man with a plan bound and determined to get his way.

"On one condition." She countered and Carrick's lips thinned into what could easily maneuver itself to a smile but he retained more control than that.

"And that is?"

"No one knows about this, about our financial problems. This information stays between us. I don't want your son to know about my father. Tell him I want status as his wife, tell him I want him to further my aritstry, I don't care just do not mention anything about this estate or my father."

"I will not allow you to do this honey."

"No one shall know." She nodded still ignoring her father. Hearing him having to beg for help in the first place stole all the breath from her lungs and she'd be damned if he lost anymore of his reputation. She'd save what was left of it and hold onto it for dear life because it was all she had, it was all her motivation and without it she could physically feel her own being stripped from her.

"What makes you think Christian will even agree to this?" She asked and studied Carrick in the process. He had the smile to fool men and win women but the hint of devilish intent when she mentioned Christian's name reminded her of Goya's painting Saturn Devouring His Son. A father who couldn't bear his children to surpass him in success so he devoured them. It was in that moment, the situation terrifyingly began to sink in. She just sold her soul to the devil.

"Don't worry your pretty little head about that."

"Pleasure doing business with you both. I certainly hope this…" Carrick motioned to the walls of the office. "Is worth it."

"Considering you're taking advantage of a newly widowed man and motherless woman, I hope that losing a piece of your soul is worth what you're doing here today."

"Ana, your innocence is enchanting. Your parents both did such a wonderful job in sheltering you but you'll soon learn that no one is innocent in this office and now not even you my dear." Carrick eyed his father before leaving.

"I'll have your money this week." As soon as the door closed she turned to her father.

"What the hell is wrong with you? I can't believe you just did that!" He yelled as he shook her. The heat of his breath attacked her face as tears finally found their release.

"I won't change my mind." She spoke already nostalgic for the wallowing grief of moments before. At least then she was free.

"You are too much like your damn mother sometimes!" He shouted as he stormed out into the hallway.

She stared at the empty space and tried desperately to catch her breath. What the hell did she just agree to?


	2. Chapter 1

_I hope you guys enjoy this story. Search Ohsweet Nightingale on facebook. Responses are quicker through messenger on there than on here for any questions you may have. Thank you for reading. _

**Chapter 1**

Ana never imagined a winter wedding nor did she envision her mother's absence but those thoughts were useless. In three months, she was getting married. She pulled her knitted sleeves over her fingers before surrounding the warm ceramic of her mug with her covered hands. It was a cold and bitter day for October 1st. The view from her bedroom balcony served as a simple reminder for this weddings purpose. The leaves danced effortlessly to the ground in their warm orange and dark red colors that fall always blessed them with. She could easily paint the scene and envision the pallete of colors. From her balcony, the woods filled her vision. Her mother chose this room specifically for her because of the view. She felt the corners of her lips slightly upturn at the memories of painting out there. With the memories came a bitter gust of wind and she tightened the blanket around her lap before being distracted by her phone ringing. She sighed at the ID of their contracter. Renovations on hers and Christian's estate began two weeks ago which meant the constant ringing of her cell phone.

"Hello."

"Miss. Steele. We wanted to call and let you know that Mr. Grey declined your request for an Art Studio and has decided to use that space as the fitness center." Ana closed her eyes and worked to remember the layout of the house.

"What about the bedroom on the west wing next to the master?"

"I'm sorry but that room isn't available either."

"I'll take a damn closet at this point." She huffed and the silence on the other end forced her to reign in her frustration. 'Don't shoot the messenger' she reminded herself.

"Maybe this is a discussion best suited for you and Mr. Grey."

"Of course." She replied sullenly and on the verge of tears. "I'll call him right now. Please don't bother him with anymore requests and any that he has I'll gladly support. I'll email the rest of the paint colors to you right now." Daryl, their contractor offered a pitied goodbye before hanging up and she threw her phone in her lap. How did she get here? She felt the familiar tremors in her chest that always signaled a cry-fest and she snuggled deeper into her sweater and blanket craving an escape. Refusing to acknowledge the traitor tears sprinting down her cheeks, she focused on the muted tone of yellow wave throughout the tops of the trees. Of course with all thoughts of zen and art came the wrecking reminders of her situation.

"Be prepared for several public appearances." Carrick Grey's voice echoed throughout her head. As much as she wanted to believe that Carricks desire, she quickly learned it to be Christian's.

Ana shuddered to think that they would be making their first large appearance tonight together. Her only saving grace was the venue being the Art museum. Their first 'date' failed miserably or at least she thought so. He spoke to her in a manner that was awfully condescending but even more so that he wore a bright smile one that without words she'd love to paint but it wasn't until the first flash pierced the glass of the window she realized his intent. He didn't care to entertain her or get to know her but he put on a damn good show for the photogs outside. It was in that moment she realized why he picked the window table.

She didn't believe in fairy tales but she had fantasies of love and marriage. And she never wished for much. She wanted someone who supported her passion for painting and who didn't mind that she spent most of her days in stained overalls and a cropped t-shirt. She inadvertently ran her fingers through her hair only to be caught by several knots before she gave up. Her long naturally wavy hair always found a way to knot itself together by morning. It's own very special aggravating talent.

Another gust of bitter breeze and she inhaled the cool air into her lungs thankful for something authentic. Being thrown into a manufactured relationship severely contrasted the visions she had forherself. It shattered actually every fantasy she's ever had and she wasn't yet brave enough to discuss a timeline. Not only that but the idea of being divorced carried a sharp pain in her chest with it. Ana threw her hands up and abandoned her time outside. The silence it seemed only carried what will never be and she didn't have the emotional strength to process it all.

As she closed the french doors to her balcony, she stilled at the wrapped package on her comforter. Recognizing the wrapping paper being from Saks, she approached it slowly. Her fingers worked the white lace bordered tag into view and she felt her breathing stagger.

_Ana, _

_This looked like your style. I sincerely hope you enjoy it. _

_Love,_

_Christian _

She read and reread the note twenty times with a furrowed brow and confusion coursing through her like a tsunami wave. It flooded every other feeling including the admiration the gift should create but eventually a ripple freed itself and slowly she felt somewhat excited…hopeful. Tearing through the wrapping she curled her fingers beneath the lid of the box and pulled. She carefully moved aside the Ivory tissue paper and stared at the carefully folded blood red fabric. What did she expect? She couldn't convey much of her personality in an hour date where he controlled the entire exchange but still…Ana held up the dress before her and cringed. There were front cutouts that would expose her ribs with a low cut v-neck and thin almost non existent straps cris crossing what would be a bare back. Is that really what he thought of her?

The fabric protruded between her fingers as she clenched the red satin until the taut muscles of her hands hurt. With one glance, she knew his intent. His feelings were clear, he had no respect for her. Raking her bottom lip between her teeth, she struggled not to cry. It took all her strength to fight the urge to travel to her parents room and sit beside her mother in bed and ask for her advice. The void she felt was suffocating. If she had the motivation to paint, she would but instead she curled up in bed and pulled the comforter over her head. Under her blanket, she could hide from Christian, her father's heartwrenching sadness, and even her own. Under her blanket, she could pretend that life wasn't as dim and dark as her reality. Within minutes she slept bound to visions of a bleak marriage and caged within an estate with one room not her own.

"Ana." The sound of her name penetrated the haze of sleep and she felt the familiar hand of their housekeeper Ruth nudging her gently.

"Honey, it's afternoon. You've been asleep all morning." Ruth tried again and Ana roused from her fitful sleep with all the makings of a headache and the potential for a migraine. Damn him and damn her for being so affected by it.

"Did you see the dress?" She asked her voice hoarse from crying. It probably was the worst idea considering their appearance that evening. Ruth's lips thinned before nodding and handing Ana aspirin and water.

"He's a man Ana. They don't know good style." Ruth answered and Ana wished that were true but she found a semblance of comfort from her voice. Ruth worked for them for twenty years up until they were unable to pay her three years ago due to the medical expenses from her mother but Ruth stayed. She moved in and helped them. Everyday, Ruth performed the same routine and Ana helped her because she could only sit with the sound of her own voice within her mother's room for so long before the flame of her hope began to flicker. And she left before it became nothing but a burnt wick because she knew, reignitig that flame would be damn near impossible.

"He hates me. That dress proves exactly what he thinks about me. If someone called and asked me to pick a dress for a Charity dinner at the Seattle Art Museum, that is not something I'd remotely look twice at. So either the personal shopper really sucks at her job or that dress is a deliberate pick. Considering his wealth, I'm picking the latter." Her heightened irritation even surprised her but it was a relief. Anger was a much easier emotion to control than sadness.

"Ana, you don't need to do this." She crawled out of bed and checked her phone sighing at the three missed calls from the contracter and a text from Christian chastising her for forcing him to handle her responsibilities. And then to add salt to the wound he asked how she liked her dress. She threw her phone at her bed feeling the weight of her lungs grow heavier with each burning breath before she collapsed back onto the still warm fabric of her sheets. She tried fervently to swallow the hurt she worked to convince herself didn't exist. She tried to remind herself that she didn't care what he thought of her but even she could feel the dishonesty of her thoughts. He was her future husband and though their relationship was more mechanic than natural, he could at least _try_. Gail sat next to her and cupped Ana's hand with hers.

"He cries." Ana whispered staring at her wallpaper for distraction.

"What?"

"He cries still. Every morning in the bathroom. He goes in and turns on the shower but I can hear him. That's how sad he is." Silence followed before she stood and inhaled deeply.

"I can do this." She turned and locked eyes with Ruth.

"I will do this." She added feeling the flicker of her flame return to a burning candle, her light not as bright but it existed.

Ruth smiled and nodded before standing and bringing Ana into an embrace.

"Why don't we go through some of your mother's dresses." Ruth asked, raking her hands down the sides of Ana's arms in a reassuring manner.

"I can't." She replied immediately, shaking her head and hands both with anxiety.

"Do you want me to?"

Ana could only nod her head before studying herself in the mirror. She looked much paler than usual and her eyes not as bright, of course the puffiness didn't help. Wanting to slap herself for crying like a damn baby earlier, she chose to shower instead.

After an hour of cold spoons on her eyes, Ana applied her makeup and started to curl her hair. Ruth replaced her tired arms and curled the rest when she came back in.

"Which dress did you pick?" Ana asked knowing that it really didn't matter. Any of her mother's dresses would be suitable and every one of them would seem too overwhelming…but she'd wear them because she couldn't wear the idiotic dress Christian sent.

"The Feretti. It's hanging up in your room."

Ana nodded and watched Ruth wrap her hair around the iron before becoming lost in thoughts of the dress. Her mother wore the Feretti at her last event, the last time she ever wore a gown. For the life of her, she couldn't remember which event it was. She only remembered staying up until midnight waiting for them to return. Her mother was still in chemo then and Ana about bit her nails clear off with anxiety. But they had a wonderful time and seeing her mother's smile when they returned was worth it.

The day came into strict clarity with the final clasp of the dress. The grey chiffon was a little loose in her chest area but it hugged her curves elsewhere. She couldn't quite sift through her feelings. Her hands nervously ran down the gathered waist of the dress, testing the tangibility of her wearing it. Her mother filled this dress and with every other dress in her closet, she couldn't imagine anyone else wearing it. To see herself, she felt like an intruder.

"You're mother would be so proud." Ruth declared as she excitedly gripped Ana's shoulders. Through repeated mantras all revolving around convincing herself not to cry, she could barely feel the touch. It felt more like the light graze of wind.

"I should've asked Dad first." Ana realized in panic before she heard his knock and watched him enter. She saw his expression, studying his fine lines and blue eyes.

"Dad, I can take it off." She murmured anxiously to fill the silence.

"No, honey. You look beautiful."

_Don't cry. Don't cry. Happy place. Happy…_

"Damn it!" She yelled as a tear made it's escape. Ruth immediately began to fan her face and Ana tried to imagine the funniest situation possible with no such luck. She needed to leave.

"Thank you Dad and thanks Ruth for helping me with everything."

"What time is Christian picking you up?"

"He's not" She answered quickly and without thought. Her father's eyes narrowed and her eyes darted to Ruth who shrugged her shoulders.

"He's running late from work. His driver is picking me up and then we'll retrieve Christian." She lied and she did it well. Too well, she thought as they all walked down the stairs in weary silence. Only Ruth knew just how bleak hers and Christian's relationship was and she promised not to tell understanding that Raymond felt enough guilt, Ana refused to give him more. So, she lied. She told her father that he was perfect on their first date. She wore a smile reminiscent of the one she wore sophomore year of high school when Tommy Ridges asked her to prom, and she convinced her father she believed she'd grow to love Christian easily. Hugging them both, Ana attempted to draw strength from their embraces but settled for the ease of her anxiety before closing their front door.

Christian designated Sawyer as her driver. He was 6 foot 4 and packing more than 200 lbs and she could see the outline of a gun at his waist. Well, if anything Christian protects his assets because that's the only thing she felt like to him. It made her curiosity insatiable though. Her need to understand what he could gain from marrying her or why the domineering Christian Grey succumbed to a demand of his father's. And, another question. Why the hell did Carrick want her?

"Hi Sawyer."

"Miss Steele." He replied curtly with a slight dip of his chin. As she climbed into the SUV, Sawyer handed her a yellow envelope before rounding the car to the drivers seat. Repositioning the prongs of the clasp, she pulled out the papers inside. Richmond Public Relations logo was the first thing she noticed before she scanned the rest of the page.

**Statement of History**

You and Christian are childhood friends due to families social circles. You have dated quietly on and off since you were 18. The first time being in 2008 for 10 months. You parted ways to focus more on your mother's illness. You kept in touch throughout the years and reunited briefly in 2010 for a couple months but parted ways again mutually with Christian's impending six month trip to Europe. You began exchanging phonecalls and text messages six months ago and after Carla Steele's death both of you realized you were still in love and Christian proposed.

**Statement of Proposal **

Being private individuals, Christian proposed on September 10th 2013 over a home cooked meal at his Escala home. No more details are necessary at this moment.

**Wedding **

January 4th 2014. Venue is W. Hotel. Dress designer is Paolo Sebastian.

Ana's hands trembled as she dropped the paper to her lap. There was more, much more. Questions and preferred answers to press questions. They were using her mother's death and she had to read details about her own wedding from a publicist. Feeling the air escape her chest and a wave of nausea attack her, she fumbled to lower the window.

The moment the chilled breeze met her skin, she felt the ease of anxiety not freedom but expansion of her cage.

They pulled into the parking garage and she watched Christian emerge from the elevator. Under different circumstances, she'd probably like him even want to be with him. In a suit undoubtedly custom tailored for his build, he looked handsome aesthetically pleasing but that's all she felt. How romantic it felt to be detached to her fiance, she berated herself for a moment. As Sawyer opened her door, she raised her chin determined not to give Christian a reaction. When he finally lay eyes on her, he stilled. And for a second she thought he might actually compliment her because his eyes studied her with a hint of admiration but the expression disappeared quickly. He pulled the lapels of his suit with a distant and uncaring attitude.

"Ready?" He asked with a familiar devilish gleam. Two devils and she the innocent sacrificial lamb. She'd feel much more the martyr if she hadn't sacrificed herself.


	3. Chapter 2

_Hello! Thank you so much for your reviews and reads. A couple things you as a reader might want to know about this story is that you won't get your answers all at once. This will be a slow moving storyand answers will come in time. All of our characters feel justified to their actions. Christian's point of view is next and will hopefully shed some light but he does have some ground to stand on when it comes to his behavior with Ana. I will always write an HEA between Christian and Ana, but I also like to write an uphill battle to get there. It makes the prize that much sweeter. Also, sorry for mistakes. I currently do not posess the ability to edit as much as I'd like. It's either updates or two weeks of editing that I'd like. Enjoy. As always I'm available to answer questions. Thank you again. _

**Chapter 2**

"You didn't like the dress?" Christian rhetorically questioned and she moved her stare from her hands to the window. The city buildings mimicked her racing quips but she decided to forgo giving him the reaction he wanted.

"This dress seemed more appropriate."

She didn't care to see or hear his reaction. Mostly, she wanted the night to be over already. Set to the sound of his fingertips typing on his laptop, she watched the flicker of tail lights through the rain. The rivulets of water cascading down her window blurred the landscape of buildings but not her thoughts. As if she were painting her vision of love, each stroke became darker with every minute spent with him.

"Did you read the statement?"

"Yes. Do you need any details?" She replied as she turned to face him finally. He'd be much easier to despise if his aesthetic wasn't so pleasing, so inspiring for a paintbrush or a pencil. It was in that moment she decided to paint him. And since she mostly painted portraits, he was perfect…for her art. Christian didn't look away from his computer but she noted the silence of his fingertips.

"About my mother since that seems to be such a factor in our relationship." She prayed for him to say no. Her voice barely managed that sentence.

"No." He answered listlessly and she felt some of her tension ease.

"Are you prepared for tonight? I'd prefer not to carry the entire responsibility of making our relationship seem authentic. We are to act engaged and appear happy." He declared and she stared at him. It wasn't that she was unaware of these facts but she wasn't prepared. And to tell him betrayed every little ounce of dignity she had left.

"I understand."

"Good. Don't embarrass me." Darker stroke number two for the night. She was in over her head. These games were nothing she'd been raised to excel at. Her mother kept as much of that part of their world from her.

"Why the fake history?" She finally felt her nerves strong enough to ask.

"Because Ana…" He sighed in a way that made her feel an inch tall but she kept her demeanor firm and calm. "I'm a businessman. I need people to trust the authority and reasoning behind my decisions and having a shotgun wedding with someone I barely know has the opposite effect."

"Know this." He added turning towards her as his face hardened and his lips thinned. Virile. It was the first adjective she had for the way he looked. Angry of course but he had such an innate dominance that crowded her. "My success and my empire are everything. It is my measurable accomplishment. You represent me tonight and Grey Enterprise Holdings." He finished with a finality she didn't dare to question. Instead, she kept her shoulders and chin high and finished their car ride in silence. Suffocating silence. Damn him and his stupid ego.

The museum approached faster than she anticipated. With every closing yard, her anxiety increased until she could hear only the blood pound ferociously in her ears. It wasn't until she saw the text from her father that the pulsing lessened to a more languid beat. She was doing this for them both. The house was all they had left of her. Vacillating now was pointless.

Christian opened her door and she was greeted with an award winning smile. He made it seem so effortless and taking in a deep breath she replied with a similar expression. Pulling her closer to his waist, he dipped and kissed her. As she watched him with pinched eyebrows, she felt vaguely aware of a flash from the corner of her sight. Moving his lips with slow precision across her cheek, she felt him whisper.

"Close your eyes."

Immediately her body obeyed before her brain could catch up in thought. Christian met her lips with much more ardor this time and she slowly and cautiously allowed herself to melt into his frame. His heat and presence felt all consuming; she felt the strokes of her brush paint red. Bright and deep in color submerged in feeling.

Then it ended. As quick and genuine as it felt, he returned to his usual aloof self under a thin façade of enjoyment. He held her close to his waist as both Sawyer and Taylor carried umbrellas for them until they crossed the threshold of the beautifully decorated museum arch entrance. It wasn't often she felt such a connection to the women she painted until now…until her painted smile felt easy. Maybe it was Christian's effortless acting or the clear direction for her behavior but she felt herself gain some control.

Christian removed her coat and then placed his hand at her waist again almost a feel of dominant possession which if he were anyone else she might actually revel in the touch. They followed the wall of sponsor's backdrops before settling in front of Grey Enterprise Holdings and pausing to pose. The flashes embodied a similar vision of fireworks but not as beautiful or chaotically routine in movement. She smiled, allowed her hand to be led to Christian's chest and desperately wished circumstances were different…he was different. As if wanting to add salt to her emotional wounds, he leaned in again and kindly asked her to laugh as if the mere suggestion from his mouth were enough to inspire her.

"Now." He demanded again and she attempted to appease him just so he'd distance himself again. Tipping her head back, she forced her lips to widen and her chest to shake with probably the most inauthentic laugh ever. It only mattered what she looked like in print, she reminded herself before being relieved of Christians' face so close to hers.

He pushed her towards two waiting interviewers and she steeled herself again for the challenge. Her inner dialogue fired motivating sayings as she kept pace. She kept her smile warm and inviting remembering to keep her hate all saved for Christian and not for the man in front of her just doing his job.

"Christian, congratulations on your engagement. How come your relationship is just coming public now?" The young and eager man asked wearing a press pass with a Seattle Times logo. Henry Garrich read the plastic identity before it was lost in movement of his questioning.

"We're very private people." Christian answered with a declaration of authority.

"Was it you're mother's illness that kept you both from public exposure?" She knew the question was directed towards her, of course it was. It wasn't Christian's mother they were referring to but she couldn't form words coherently enough without feeling like complete shit. After too long of a silence and enduring the tightening hand at her waist, she hesitantly began pulling from the brief snippets Christian's publicist formed for her.

"I have remained with my parents due to her illness. It has neither robbed me of opportunities nor do I feel that way. What I gained from the past couple years of my mother's close company, I will never regret including the lack of public exposure with Christian. That will be the only statement I will give for the rest of the evening in regards to my mother." The reporter nodded but she could feel his irritation radiate off him in thick undulating waves.

"The statement released two weeks ago mentions you both will move in together after the wedding. Have you both always been this traditional?"

"While we are conservative in some manners, I feel we are both a good mix."

"Are you referring to the artistic capabilities of Miss Steele? You two are complete opposites with occupations. Does this also refer to your personalities?" Harry's words ran together with little desire for their answer and more for the power of the information.

"Our personalities differ where they should."

"Does that mean you'll continue to paint Miss Steele? Your portraits are growing in popularity within the elite of Seattle. Any plans on opening a gallery or showcasing your art here?" Before she could answer, Christian interjected.

"My lovely fiancé and I have decided that she'll focus most of her attentions on several of our charities. Hobbies will be put on the backburner for us both as we continue our work throughout Seattle."

_Hobbies. Did he just fucking call my art a hobby? _

She moved to a much more somber smile but maintained a look of enjoyment even though her energy was waning. A couple more questions and they moved to the next interviewer. This one was easier now that she learned the information they were selling. The entire time he led her to different couples whispering their names to her before they met. The way he held her unnerved her. The manner in which he tucked wayward strands behind her ears with a look of complete adoration depressed her. He was going to ruin her, she could feel it. Her heart wasn't made for a relationship so manufactured. Naïve or not, she's known a life of love, true and uncomplicated, undying even after the passing of a soul. Being stripped so slowly and clearly of an experience she's dreamt of and even painted, felt like the similar torture of watching her mother die.

"Please excuse me."

She walked towards the bathroom but stopped at a piece of art that took her breath away. Azure waves shadowed with Navy coloring delicately pressed upon a green base. Entwined throughout both symbols were the most intoxicating blend of whites, blacks, and gold's. She admired the strokes, dominant and purposeful. She took out her phone and added the artists name hoping to find his gallery this week. It was a desperate and uncontrollable urge.

"You look like you've discovered Gold." She heard a man's voice comment and she felt relief that it wasn't Christian's. The past minutes of being lost in this painting were her best in days…possibly weeks.

"I have." She answered as she felt her Goosebumps subside.

"Daniel."

"Anastasia but please call me Ana."

"Yeah, you're quite the topic of conversation tonight." She stiffened at the comment.

"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"No, no you didn't. I'm just not good with attention."

"So you're hiding?" He asked as she looked around at the crowd only a whisper away before answering.

"I'm not so good at it I think." She joked back and he laughed.

"You were pretty immersed in this painting. I think you chose a perfect place for yourself." She turned and studied him. He didn't look at her but instead seemed to be trying to decode her reverence for the art in front of them. She relaxed at the sight of his hair combed slightly back but strands of hair managed to venture their way out. His dark brown eyes flittered back and forth over the painting before returning to look at her.

"It symbolizes creation and the dance of the divine in celebration. The lines that course through the canvas with ripple like form represent re-birth. This is my favorite painting here. "It was in that moment she realized her rejuvenation, the foreign happiness penetrating her dark cloud. She was smiling, genuinely and brightly. This was her happy place submerged in creations of colors and symbols by hands with a vision. God, she missed painting.

"Yeah, just all lines and colors to me." Daniel replied comically and she laughed, feeling the giddy rush of humor flow from her. He watched her with a warm grin that she felt drawn to.

"No interpretation is wrong." She answered and he rolled his eyes at her.

"Thanks for letting me down gently."

"You're welcome." She laughed out before she nervously tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. He was staring at her. It was similar to the way Christian had been looking at her all evening just more authentic.

"Well now that you see my passion. What is yours?" He took a deep breath and smiled.

"I'm a contractor. We just finished renovations to the Conference rooms and it got me an invitation to this." Daniel replied as he gestured towards the rest of the event around them.

"Not your thing?" He shrugged his shoulders with indifference but she knew he was trying to spare her feelings like she belonged with this crowd. Hell, who was she kidding? She was marrying the largest donor the museum had, of course she did.

She felt a hand snake around her waist and a set of lips at her temple before she heard him whisper.

"Break over." She maintained eye contact with Daniel the entire time and for just a second she imagined it him instead of Christian. Clearing her throat, her current reality came into stark focus.

"We were just admiring this painting aptly named Fluidity." She spoke and swiveled to face the painting and to shift attention back to it.

"Ah." Christian said with a familiar feeling of reverie, the same she had when she saw it. "Yes, I bought this one. It is my favorite in the museum."

Ana tried to hide her shock and she was in the position where her futile attempts went unnoticed since she stood before them both.

"Well you two are just perfect for each other then." Daniel commented before introducing himself to Christian who seemed to be slightly confused by the statement approached him. She didn't wish to appease his confusion. After pleasantries Christian quietly excused them both before drawing her close to his side and their game of pretend resumed.

After a couple glasses of champagne, she began to feel a little less on edge and began to actually ease into Christian's embraces. The smiling became easier and at some point, she realized she clung to his hand longer than necessary. In all honesty, he was an escape. All of it, the acting and parts of it she somewhat enjoyed in a very deprived way. Being social and outside of her home felt refreshing despite all her attempts over the past years that friends weren't necessary anymore. But even in the crowd and surrounded by the loud excited chatter, she felt alone.

"Let's dance and then we can leave." Christian told her leading her out to the dance floor with obvious display. He abruptly pulled her to him, bringing her chest against his, and for a second her smile faltered.

"For someone so desperate for this lifestyle, you certainly seem to shy away from it." He murmured into her ear. As she pulled her chin from his shoulder, she wasn't surprised to find him smiling.

"You have no idea what you're talking about." She sat back and he studied her as their feet continued to move them across the dance floor. And then she remembered what she told Carrick to tell Christian and the night straightened it's blurred edges.

_Tell him I want status as his wife, tell him I want him to further my aritstry._

"Trust me, I know women like you." He spoke with such hate that she pulled away from him only to have him drag her back.

"Who hurt you?" She asked finally seeing a break in his façade. Pain and hate became evident as she watched his eyes darken. He quickly recovered but she could feel his rage surround them in a thick dense blanket.

"I'm sorry." Ana quickly inserted into their silence. "I'm not here to hurt you."

"I'd never give you that much power."

_Really? Because hating her meant she had some. _

_And being hurt by him gives him more, _her mind decided to add. She wanted to slap herself.

"I'd never ask you to." She replied failing to relax him. In fact, she felt his arm tighten around her as their dance became more rigid.

"I believe you." He breathed harshly at her temple as if it pissed him off that he did. Pulling her from the dance floor without a chance to respond, she was forced to fall back into their routine for the night.

Even knowing she'd still have to deal with Christian; their car couldn't arrive fast enough. As soon as he helped her in, she relaxed. She pulled the pins from her hair and let her head fall back against the headrest in exhaustion. The interruption of Christian getting in brought her head back up and her posture stiff.

"I have a media consultant coming in from New York to train you for events."

She had neither the strength or will to argue but of course she had the ability to feel every ounce of pain that flittered from his statement. If she ever decided to paint him, he'd have the most beautifully decorated mask known to man.

"Okay."

After a couple miles of driving, it was painfully obvious he wasn't planning to accompany her home. They were dropping him off and she'd be going home alone. Her hurt more revolved around the fact that she began this journey alone and all her naïve hope was lost that he might…might be different tonight. He'd proven her wrong and shattered her ten year old heart in the process. As they pulled into the garage she knew that he didn't deserve a thank you but she'd give it anyway because she was raised better than that.

As he reached for the door, she lightly stopped him as she gripped his forearm.

"What?" He snapped and she worked through her own irritation before answering.

"Thank you for dinner tonight."

She watched his annoyance sweep swiftly to confusion before he acknowledged her appreciation with a head nod. That was it. It was all he gave before he told her she'd be moving to the suv to be taken home. As she reached for her door, she stilled as she watched a young woman get out of the Escalade. Long brown hair with a beautiful face approached Christian with a familiarity she hated. She sat and watched her fiancé walk into an elevator with another woman and she couldn't even bear to get out of the car until the doors closed.

The humiliation of being sent to ride in the same vehicle he just sent for another woman was just another sharp cut of his blade for the night. She was nothing special for him, lower than the woman he called for sex, and he couldn't care less. As if the trip home wasn't torturous enough, she noticed the light in their living room still on and she knew her father had waited up.

She took a deep breath and ascended the stairs hearing the wind sing her true feelings as branches trembled and howls echoed through the black of the night. Not even the stars felt this day to be one worthy of their beauty.

Opening the door, she painted yet another smile onto her face as her dad approached from the living room. She knew his concerns, his fears and she couldn't stand to see him feel guilty or know just how miserable this arrangement was.

"How did it go?"

"Great. He was just perfect."

"Did he not want to come inside?"

"No, work thing. He'll call later I'm sure."

"Oh I forget his work isn't limited to just our time zone. You really had a good time?"

"I did."

"Okay, then." He replied kissing her cheek. "I'm heading up to bed."

"Okay."

"Wait Dad," She called and he turned around, smiling. "I love you."

"I love you too sweetheart. I'm glad tonight went good for you. I was worried."

"Don't worry about me." She answered and watched him climb the stairs and head for his room.

When she heard his bedroom door shut, she collapsed onto the bottom stair. If this wasn't her mother's dress, she'd rip the damn thing to shreds trying to escape it. Burying her head in her lap, she cried trying to search for as much comfort as this piece of fabric could offer her. It was the closest thing she had in that moment. The sobs escaped as pleas and apologies. She apologized to her mother for lying, for her name being used in the sick games of the Grey's and she pleaded for the strength her mother so gracefully carried to her death.

Damn. Him.


	4. Chapter 3

_Hello everyone! Thank you so much for your awesome responses this week! They are truly the food for my muse! I am so humbled. I know there is much criticism over Christian and there might be for some time. Maybe after this chapter, it will shed some light onto how the next chapters will go. There will be small yet profound moments between them that changes them both over the course of this story. Some for the better and some not so much but remember I always have an HEA! Thank you, Thank you again! I'm around for question always. _

**Chapter 3.**

"You're quiet tonight." Leila hummed as she ran her fingers down his chest. Christian peeled them off with as much restraint as he could. He called her but tonight didn't satisfy his needs at all. Whatever those fucking needs were because it just felt like an unidentifiable itch.

"Is it about that fiance of yours" Leila teased, trying to curl into his side.

"You can leave now."

She glared at him before throwing her leg over his lap and straddling his cock. Of course she lingered for a second hoping he'd take her again but he felt no urge. Seeing her, led to him envisioning Ana for some god forsaken reason, one that left him teetering on the edge of pissed off. He had to admit he was surprised she refused the dress he bought her. None of his other girls ever declined his gifts granted he knew he sent that out of spite and her rebellion was somewhat noble…and appealing.

_She's just like them. _

His father's voice reminded him of the failings of such naivety, the danger of believing women like Ana. Innocence was intoxicating for him, it always had been but even he knew she was hiding something. He couldn't trust her. She played the part of his wife so well and he had too much to lose to let his guard down especially not for a gold digger. In that regard, he just became her personal fucking playground except now he had full control. It's what made their arrangement somewhat appealing. He knew her intentions already and he had full control. Full control. He kept saying it until he believed she hadn't just stripped some from him.

Watching Leila dress had the same effect as watching an infomercial. He watched because he had nothing else to do and because he found the product of her body interesting enough. The curves of her hips drew his eyes lower until he had to stop at the feminine model of her ass. He loved the female form. Like art, the artist held all the power and character was the paint. She fingered the hem of her shirt trying to buy time but silence answered for him. Reluctantly she picked up her purse and left without a goodbye. Even she knew that was their last time. Leila had ventured well over comfortable territory for him. And truthfully none of them lasted over a month besides Ana now and that was different.

With the loneliness came the betrayal from his head. Memories from hours before flooded him and most of them involved Ana. Why he studied her as he did shocked the hell out of him but she was intoxicating to be around. The natural almost untainted tasting warmth she possessed just radiated as they socialized. He knew she'd been sheltered from their world. His father reasoned it for her desire for their status and money saying she felt herself divested of the lifestyle she deserved. He couldn't remember any specific party growing up where he remembered seeing her and you could tell. Her interactions were genuine despite the content of conversation. She still held the interest that they all managed easily to feign so well. Ah well, soon enough. Swinging his feet to the edge of the bed, he stormed into the bathroom desperate to rid her from conscious thought. Eventually, he ended up back in bed falling into a restless sleep his dreams snippets of a past life he hated to remember and the present forming in braids to form a noose.

Christian stared at the edging blur of his computer screen, vaguely listening to Andrea talk about his schedule for the day, while he attempted to forget the new-framed additions on his desk. But without much control, his eyes always seemed to venture to the glass housing pictures of Ana. His media consultant suggested them for his desk to better support the charade of their marriage and apparently Raymond Steele felt all too generous with photos. Initially there were ten pictures of her adorning his usual minimally decorated desk. All that remained now were three. But seriously, fucking ten? He was marrying the woman not obsessed with her. The thought of husband's desks smothered with the reminders of monotony almost nauseated him. He kept his favorite three, actually scratch that his most _tolerable_ three.

_Close one Grey. _

Finally dismissing Andrea, he studied them again. His most tolerable of the three was one of her sleeping. For a standard act, she made it seem intimate. The picture pissed him off in that he felt like she was purposely distracting him. And yet he couldn't bring himself to replace it. Bringing the photo closer, his breath formed small droplets of condensation on the glass. Her face appeared so damn angelic with a look of the sweetest content on her face. He couldn't decide if he recognized the expression. Once. She wore the same look when studying the painting.

He couldn't say he felt jealousy seeing her talk to another man, more possessive really. She _is_ his property now.

His father chose the perfect time to enter. He needed the distraction. Carrick headed straight for the bar none of which surprised him. His father was a functioning alcoholic…hell all of the elite were probably functioning alcoholics.

"How was last night?" His father began as the clink of his ice against glass echoed after.

"She did okay. I have a media consultant coming to train her better."

"What do you think about her?" He hated the narrowing of his father's eyes that betrayed the innocent intent of the question not that his father did anything with good intent…only justifiable.

"Are you hiding something." Christian asked, leaning back in his chair casually.

"Christian, I'm always hiding something." Carrick quipped back before taking a seat across from him. "She's gotten to you already."

"I still hate her. She's a fucking social climbing gold digger and it's not as if I haven't had enough of those."

"Son, hate requires effort which then implies you care."

"Not for her."

"Hm. We can revisit this."

"Why her?" Christian asked, his curiousity digging at his skin with incessant annoyance. "There are better pickings. Her father abandoned his political career years ago. They have hardly any power left in the circuit."

"People are drawn to butterflies Christian and you need one." Christian gritted his teeth as he devoured the idea. His current problem if ever publicly recognized could hurt his reputation and Ana did serve a purpose to maintain it.

"Butterflies have no place in the real world if only for a minute of reverence before they die." He countered. "I have no need for anything so temporary." His father smiled and stood after finishing his drink.

"For someone so inspired by the beauty of art, it shocks me you don't see the potential of the beauty of someone's charisma."

"How beautiful can one be agreeing to marry someone just to secure themselves a lifestyle."

"Her words, not mine."

"Yes, and your words have a funny way of masking the truth. I know there's more to this; however, as long as you give me what you promised, I'll do as you ask."

"Just don't tear her wings off in the process. We need those."

"I thought she was with me to get them." Carrick frowned, inhaled, and then sighed with resignation.

"Your mother will be home from her mission trip next week and your brother gets back from Europe tomorrow. I expect you to allow him to manage the renovations to your estate."

"What does Mom know?"

"Would it please you to know it didn't surprise her that you had a relationship she didn't know about?"

There was a guilt trip in there about how private he was even with his family. They found comfort in his adoption being the reason and maybe it was but at some point he just quit trying to forge better relationships with them. They still tried and he bent as best he could but it was never his best effort.

"So we're lying to her too?"

"Yes. She doesn't need to know about this and if you're problem ever becomes public at least we have Ana to comfort her."

"Elliot too?"

"Your preference?" His father answered. Elliot was the closest person Christian allowed anywhere near some semblance of privacy in his life. He was loyal almost to a fault but opinionated enough to become annoying. His filter was much less impressive if existent at all.

"And what is the current status of your problem?" Now Christian sighed, feelings the beginnings of irritation surface.

"She refused the settlement offer and countered with half a million more. I have two private investigators on her and hopefully we'll have something to shut this shit down by next week which is the deadline of when I need to either counter again or pay her."

"I'm sorry son."

"Women." He replied with a gesture of acceptance. Women….desperate for money fucking women.

Even through the silence, he could sense his father wanting to say more but instead he finished his drink and left. Christian exhaled, rubbing his hands over his eyes with frustration. Drumming his fingers on his desk, he checked the time feeling his already fading patience growing thinner as he waited for Ana to arrive. It wasn't a second later that Andrea led her in.

Her brown hair fell in waves down her back and bounced softly as she approached the couch in his office. Wearing high waisted tan dress pants and a cotton white t-shirt, she looked as she should for their interview but even he couldn't deny his heartbeat picked up a little.

"Hi." He managed to say after an awkward silence.

"Hi." She sounded exhausted and barely hid it with makeup. He could see signs she cried the night before. Sliding off her heels, she curled her legs onto the couch in weird familiarity like she'd been there numerous times. Her hands picked at an invisible thread on her pants before she moved one to rest her head on.

"Something on your mind?" Christian asked and he could see the debate happening in the confines of her mind.

"Last night." She began taking a deeper breath before she continued. "Look, I can handle indifference Christian. I don't expect you to change your life for this arrangement. I honestly don't expect anything from you." Her voice remained firm despite the trembling of her leg. He straightened in his chair and leaned forward to measure her better.

"I am indifferent to you Ana." Her mouth opened to answer before they were interrupted by their media consultant, Danielle.

"Oh good, you're early. I have a makeup artist who will be here in ten. Nathan, your interviewer will be here in an hour." Danielle ran her hands through Ana's hair and quirked her lip in acquiescence.

"Now this interview is for Seattle Magazine. This one is important. Seattle is your home-city and the base of your operations Christian so these are the people you need to convince first and foremost. They are the most important because truly you control a lot of the dealings in the city with your charity and wealth. They need to know that you aren't a distraction Ana." Danielle circled his desk, looking at the photographs before turning back to Ana.

"Pay close attention to how these interviews work. You will be giving several over the next three months and even after your wedding. You have one in three days with Seattle Bride. I have officially spoken to your PR firm Christian and we have agreed to change the dress designer to someone from the city. You know in full support of local business." He nodded, hating this shit but he feigned interest. Danielle continued turning to Ana now and discussing the questions with her. He isolated himself to a quiet headspace and worked, going over contracts and stealing quick glances of Ana getting her make up done. She looked about as happy as he was to be there which just added to the pile of shit labeled Ana's contradictory behavior.

Andrea finally announced Nathan Bock and he moved to join Ana on the couch. Past the hairspray, he could smell the familiar scent of amber and vanilla that he remembered from the night before. Resting his hand on her thigh, she didn't miss a beat and her hand lay lazily on his.

Nathan Bock, a man probably in his late thirties and still trying to embrace the hipster look with skinny jeans and oxfords. His hair even more unruly than his style, he sat and fumbled with his recorder and notepad before finally offering an introduction. Nathan relaxed at Ana's introduction. Idiot. The exact moment she smiled at him and shook his hand, you could visibly see him gravitate towards her. He wanted to tell him he could fucking have her but the vision of that ended up pissing him off more than giving him relief. They began with the usual questions pertaining to his business. How is business? How is it progressing? Any new ventures you want to share? After that they turned to their relationship. How did they first meet? What did she think of the proposal?

"There is criticism about you marrying too young?" Nathan asked.

"Well I know that's not directed at me." Christian joked even though he hated to participate. A swift slap of humiliation raked over him as soon as it left his mouth.

"You're damned if you do and damned if you don't .At 24, if I'm at a club partying then I am irresponsible and have yet to enter the real world. And if you're getting married at 24, you still aren't there because they believe you are indulging some thirteen-year-old fantasy. Considering how public our engagement is, I think they'll find anything to criticize me for. Age has and always will be something someone is judged for or stereotyped over. Regardless of what they say, it has no bearing on my feelings for Christian."

"Do you feel the same about the criticism with your age difference."

"I'll answer that." He interrupted following the dialogue that his publicist prepared for them. "Ana and I have always found common ground despite the six years difference between us. Age hasn't directed our conversations or our feelings. People can criticize but as she said, it has no bearing on how we feel about each other.

"How has your mother's death impacted your relationship?" He could feel the mood change as the severe switch of questions registered.

"I think that by impacting the way I view life and relationships in general contributes to any relationship I have right now." Her voice wavered and out of the corner of his eye, he could see her fingers drumming along the edge of her couch cushion. Undaunted by her obvious discomfort and the terse tone of her voice, Nathan continued. Christian felt the rage begin like a distant wave traveling to a shore it had no business reaching. All of his control and restraint rested on deep breaths but Ana's faint quiver of her lip pressed upon him with a sharp ache. He didn't even have time to think about why it bothered him so much before reaching for her hand.

"I'm fairly certain that the list of questions we received didn't include any referencing the death of her mother. In fact it was agreed upon that no questions venture there. If you continue to berate my fiancé, I'll have your ass fired before you can draw another letter on your pitiful notepad." Ana seemed to relax, he felt a shift beneath his hand before she tightened her grip. His body still fueled with anger, he watched Nathan stammer an apology before flipping a page and continuing.

His muscles still tense, it took three questions that Ana answered perfectly before he could successfully rejoin the conversation. And even then he could only slate himself for losing control so easily that it forced rigidity over him, one he knew they both sensed. Fuck. Ana slid her hand from his, his hand feeling the loss immediately but he took comfort in it. Inch by inch, he felt control crawling back into every nerve of his body.

Control. To lose even an ounce pissed him off. He looked at Ana, smiling again trying to save their interview and she did it well. His father was right, she had an innate charisma. It was neither inauthentic nor forced and so she drew their interviewer in more. Her effort though was strained but he only noticed because he knew her mood prior.

"One last question," Nathan began and Christian shifted his attention back to him with a smile he couldn't even pretend was honest. "Who is the messier person between you two?"

"Me."

"Ana." They both said in unison. It wasn't even one of the questions his publicist prepared for them. He leaned over and kissed her cheek as they agreed before the interview feeling only her thighs stiffen beneath his hand. She looked just as shocked as he felt that they even answered correctly. He just knew. He could tell by the difference in their personalities who it would be. She must have assumed the same.

They both stood as Nathan shut off his recorder and packed his things. Christian was still pissed that he went after Ana the way he did. They shook hands awkwardly, the gesture filled with more relief that it was over than appreciation and Christian rounded his desk as he watched Nathan leave. Ana sat quietly on his couch while they waited for everyone else to leave. Everyone besides Danielle, their media consultant who he expected to lose her shit in four, three, two.

"You two really need to get laid." She spat out as the door closed. "I don't even care if it's with other people as long as you can keep it a secret but you both need to relax more with each other."

"Ana, you really need to be prepared to answer questions about your mother. This topic will not go away and wishing it will is futile. I'll come over tomorrow so get your cry fest out of the way tonight because I am going to hound you with questions about her until it becomes routine and not such a trigger." Well now he wanted to rip her fucking head off, actually both of them. His life was becoming so much more complicated than he ever wanted. Danielle kept talking and Ana took everything in stride. She looked more exhausted than upset and she seemed to handle criticism well.

"You!" Danielle pointed at him and he shrugged his shoulders in indifference.

"Your little temper tantrum despite how noble it looks to others left you pissed off for the rest of the interview."

"I really don't give a fuck."

"Yeah it looked like it. Figure it out or I'm sending you both away for a weekend together and I'll force you both to find some common ground here."

"We can only manipulate perception so much." Danielle ended and stormed out of his office. He drew in a deep breath, closing his eyes and listening to Ana's movement as she packed her things. Alone. He wanted to be fucking alone without any interruption or female voice bickering in his ear. Finally opening his eyes, Ana lingered by the door staring at one of his paintings.

"Thank you." She spoke quietly but firmly over her shoulder. He really didn't want to acknowledge her apology because it meant recognizing he allowed himself to lose control and it was because of her that he did.

_She wants you for your money and she wants you for your status. _

It washed away any of the attachment he formed to her. As she waited, she stood before him, as the stranger he needed her to be.

"The Temptation of St. Anthony." He ended up saying referencing to the painting she kept staring at.

"Grunewald." She replied and he knew her background in Art but he couldn't say he judged her to actually retain the information. Like most college students nowadays, they came away with a degree but still required heavy training when entering the workforce.

"Do you have the original? This is an immaculate copy."

"I have it stored, yes."

"This is one of my favorite paintings we discussed at Cornish." She replied, her nostalgia evident on the lingering notes of her voice.

"It's just temptations and Demons."

"Is there a difference?"

"Demons only have the power you give them." He told her, a common phrase he repeated to himself sometimes. She studied the painting more for a while, ruminating his reply.

"Control can only go so far Christian before that Demon reveals itself."

"What do you do with your demons?"

"I paint them."

"You?" She asked.

_I fuck them. _But he didn't say that out loud.

He didn't answer and she didn't seem content to wait. A weight of silence settled between them both.

"I'll see you tomorrow." She finally spoke as she left.

The sound of his door closing brought in a newfound sense of self-recrimination. Fuck. Fuck her and fuck this entire situation. He slammed her photos down on his desk. Control. Full Control.


	5. Chapter 4

_I can't even express how humbled and grateful I am for the reviews. Thank you so much. I know this story isn't everyone's cup of tea. It's slow building, and all of my characters are flawed. This chapter is Ana's time to bare hers. She does pull herself out of it. This is the chapter that I wanted to convey what the world was doing to her and the effects it was having on her. I plan to try and respond to all the reviews this weekend. Thank you so much again! I have the best readers ever!_

**Chapter 4**

Ana waited outside of Grants Bakery at a small iron table enjoying the feel of the sun. Even her leaden eyes opened for the warm day, Seattle decided to grace them with. Of course, she was wrapped in a sweater but it made for a more easy comfort than it being too warm.

God, she was tired. To do anything, even run an errand, she had to curl her hair and apply make-up. It made her want to chop all of her hair off but she threatened that already only to hear Christian begin a tirade of curse words. And the conversation was already tense with his scolding of her outfit choice to go grocery shopping in.

He'd changed since the day of their interview with Seattle Magazine. Staying true to his word, he remained indifferent unless she disappointed him and then he moved quickly to remind her so. And Danielle, well she definitely took pride in her job. She fired questions at Ana for three hours about her mother until nothing but numbness coursed through her. They were able to reduce her mother to nothing but a slight sour taste in her mouth than the drowning water board effect she sometimes felt. Still feeling the lingering effects, Ana drank some more of her tea trying to rid the dazed state of mind she'd been sporting since.

Christian approached with his usual domineering manner. His strides were equal and confident and his navy tailored suit hugged his body in all the right places. Ana smiled as she knew she should as he bent down and kissed her forehead before sitting.

"I have twenty minutes before a meeting."

"I have the Seattle Bride photo-shoot in an hour at the estate." She replied with the same distracted tone he used.

"Yes, I'll be out after this meeting to look at the renovations and check on your shoot. They are only to shoot in the Master bedroom. If they try for anything else in my absence, you decline."

"Okay."

"They'll also be sending me pictures of your makeup and hair for my approval before they shoot."

"What for?"

"I have my reasons, none I need to explain to you." The ability to keep her mouth shut and her tongue bitten quickly lost its appeal but the one rule her father always used to discipline her with reverberated through her.

_Don't bite the hand that feeds you._

As much as she refused to follow the advice in teen fashion when it came to her father, she had much more to lose now than a cell-phone and allowance. So she nodded, drank her tea, and tried to pep herself up for a photo-shoot she cringed to even be doing. Their lunch progressed mainly with silence and added bouts of conversation she forced Christian to initiate just to slightly irritate him. It wasn't obvious but he sensed it no doubt. They parted ways the same way they met with a kiss and a smile and a much needed good-bye.

Sawyer escorted her to their estate, crowded by construction vans and trucks adorning Grey Construction. Their driveway lined with Maple Tree's displayed their transformations with beautiful showcase. Their colors a deep red and orange with only scattered spots of yellow in them. As much as she loved her home, she'd grow to love this one; although this estate not at all painted with the sentiment of her childhood home, she'd certainly try..

She then studied her future home. The grand scale of it mimicked the one she currently lived in but twice its size. With 12 room and 15 bathrooms, she had no idea how to even handle the space. Granted not one room was specifically given to her besides a spare bedroom that she'd sleep in. They had an outdoor pool and indoor pool she'd probably use and most likely the fitness center too. The architecture, European inspired, incorporated a large ornate fountain in the front courtyard. The brick paved driveway although covered with vehicles displayed an amazing pattern of different shades of gray bricks. The home itself had a 17th/18th century feel with its craftsmanship and she knew it was Christian's intent to match the interior. He had an eclectic taste of modern and classic décor. As much as he'd given her freedom to decorate, she ran into his controlling ego every step of the way until she just handed the responsibility off.

She was first greeted by his brother Elliot who picked her up, spun her around, and then hugged her again with childish glee.

"The one who tamed my ass of a brother." He yelled above the sounds of saws and hammers.

"Tolerate might be a better word." She joked back as he laughed again. His blonde curly hair and earnest face gave him a trustworthy and familiar appearance. His blue eyes didn't help either. He was simply charming in aesthetic. They talked for a moment with an ease she'd never had with Christian.

"Ana." She jerked at the familiar voice and turned to see Daniel standing behind her.

"You two have met?" She heard Elliot dimly through the noise of construction.

"Daniel." She managed with a much welcomed excitement.

"We met at the Donors dinner at the Art museum." Daniel told Elliot before approaching her.

"Ahh." Elliot commented before being pulled away by someone else.

"I'm not stalking you." Daniel admitted sarcastically. He looked much different in jeans, a tool belt, and V-neck shirt. His hair, unruly yet appealing in its chaos as he worked to tame the rebel strands. "Elliot hired me to manage the renovations of another site but needed a hand today."

"Who said I wasn't stalking you." She quipped back with a smile as she began walking into the home. She barely paid attention to the work around her, just Daniel laughing next to her.

"That would be welcome. I'm not sure your fiancé would like that kind of media attention." Oh, if he only knew, she thought before answering.

"We have lawyers for that." She joked again, seeing the panicky expression of an assistant waiting by the stairs. She sighed for dramatic effect before he saw her reason for it.

"Shit, go free her from her misery you evil woman." Daniel moved away to say goodbye and she for some reason couldn't let it go or he go.

"Do you have a card? Just in case I find myself in need of your services."

_Oh Ana. _

Mortification brought an entire new shade of blush to her cheeks as he dug into his wallet and gave her one. She hurried through her good bye and felt relief as she followed the assistant upstairs. Sitting in hair and makeup for two hours gave her too much time to neurotically replay her embarrassing statement. Her chatty hairdresser Steven helped. He complimented her hair and bone structure along with her blue eyes the entire time he worked on her. Not that she needed the ego stroke, but she couldn't help but feel good after that. He curled her hair into loose waves while her make up exuded the same effect with a Smokey eye and fake eyelashes. In twenty minutes, her much less panicked assistant Jamie brought her into the master suite.

With a large four post bed positioned against the back wall and across from the fireplace they had lit, they directed her towards the bed showcasing mostly white sheets. The room was enormous. Six windows, three on each side of the two French doors leading to the balcony, made it seem even larger. Their interior decorator had chosen white paint, allowing the original trim to stand out along with the original fireplace mantle decorated lightly with fall accessories.

They dressed her in a local lingerie designer wanting her to showcase her work and also to play on Ana being a young modern wife. Her lingerie hugged her curves. A classic white and blush lace bra with an attached corset meant to double as a shaper for her dress which was also meant to play on one of her tips she gave as part of the interview the day before.

Her heart already a speed of nerves raced even faster as she climbed atop the bed and if her day couldn't get any more mortifying, Christian chose to enter. She kept her trembling hands hidden in the sheets as three people began to position her. He looked at her, his expression changing to one she hadn't seen before. Not allowing herself to feel completely humiliated, she focused on the directions firing at her.

One knee here, nope not there. A hand right here. Chin up like this. Bite your lip like that.

Finally she found herself raised on her knees, both hands holding a sheet to partly shield her legs with her head slightly raised and her teeth lightly raking her lower lip. She managed to feel herself smiling knowing the sooner she gave them what she wanted, the sooner she could move to the next outfit. Part way through, she met Christian's gaze only after she caught him staring everywhere else of her but her eyes. It gave her a jolt of confidence. She focused more on her pose, staring into the camera with a satiating satisfaction. Christian lingered by the door, his eyes darting between the computer screen in front of him and her. She felt a finger tug at her bra strap to let it fall and a set of hands fluff at her hair while another pair of hands grabbed at her thighs to separate them. Christian glared and then left abruptly leaving only the sound of the door slamming which only seemed to faze her.

Two hours later, she was finally back into real clothes. Not the lingerie set, the bridal robe, or the white pant suit they made her wear. She was back into jeans, boots, and her sweater. Her exhaustion began its unsettling journey through her again and she decided to keep her momentum up while she had it. Leaving the west wing, she walked to see the room he designated for her. She could hear the renovations of the downstairs echoing around her. They'd finished the upstairs two days ago. Still somewhat unpainted and only halfway decorated, she was left only to imagine the potential.

Her room was the last room all the way on the other side of the home. She opened the door only to shut it quickly. She didn't need much but compared to the Master bedroom he'd be occupying, her room was a closet. Hesitantly, she opened it again stepping into the room this time. Bare of furniture and unpainted, it was a box void of personality or purpose. Two sets of windows overlooked the side of the property and at least those had a nice view of the woods that surrounded them. The bathroom had both a shower and tub plus a nice vanity but it was all generic feeling. Her chest felt the heavy weight of oncoming tears as she slid down the wall of her room for the next who knew how many years of her life. A box. A cage. Her prison.

Two days and two charity meetings plus three dates with Christian later, she finally had a free night to be alone. Stripping off her clothes, Ana grabbed for some three quarter length yoga pants and a cropped workout shirt adorning University Prep and signatures of her classmates of 8th grade. She cut it her junior year of high school with her best friend Kate Kavanagh trying to be cool but as always time brought her a painful clarity and she cringed remembering those days. Throwing her hair up in a messy bun she collapsed back onto her bed shielding her eyes with her hands from the world around her. She should sleep but she couldn't. Her body alive with restlessness refused to. Getting up, Ana decided to workout not that she needed it although if she were to ask Christian, he'd probably object. Instinctively, she rolled her eyes. Her body was tone from running and just hiking in the woods on days when the weather cooperated. They adopted a clean eating lifestyle after her mother was diagnosed with cancer so her diet wasn't an issue; although, she did have a junk food draw hidden in her room filled with Lays Sour cream and onion chips and Oreo's. Even her mother used to sneak in when she still had the strength and indulge with her. They'd laugh, watch whatever movie version of Nicholas Sparks's book was out and devour an entire bag of chips together. She felt her hand grab at her chest and tears fight their way out. Her control won but that hurt. And she was somewhat relieved she could still feel pain. Being numb came simultaneously with guilt and guilt felt worse than loss. The sound of their doorbell ringing didn't register at first. Odd, she knew but when you weren't listening for a sound, you often refused to hear it and her father was gone for the night visiting her grandparents while Ruth was still in Wisconsin visiting her son.

She followed their hall to the grand staircase and turned every light on along the way. Yes, she was a baby. At 6:00, the sun was already beginning to set as she opened the door.

"Ana."

"Mrs. Grey. I um, Hi." She stammered at the warm smile of Grace Trevelyan-Grey. They'd met years ago at a Christmas party her mother threw but time didn't show on her face.

"Oh we're way past pleasantries. You're marrying my son." Grace waved chastisingly and held up two grocery bags of food.

"This might feel like an intrusion and I'm sure my son will be here soon enough to chastise me but if you haven't eaten yet, I'd love to have dinner with you." Ana stared waiting for her shock to subside before she mentally slapped herself for being rude.

"Of course, come in."

Grace strode in…gracefully. Dressed in black slacks and plum button up, Ana closed the door frantically.

"I should probably change."

"Oh please don't. I'm envious of how comfortable you look and if I had your body, I'd be walking around naked all the time." She uttered without any shame and Ana only frowned already able to envision Christian as he bitched her out.

"Oh this?" Grace pointed at her outfit finally realizing that's what Ana was staring at. "I had a charity meeting, you know the ones with women who converse more than they act. You'll learn it all soon enough."

Ana followed her into the kitchen waiting for the moment to escape and grab a something to cover up with. She should probably throw on some jeans at least.

"Please it's not a big deal. You look like you need a glass of wine."

"Sorry. It's just, this isn't what I planned to wear when I met you."

"You don't have to pretend with me." She smiled as Ana set down two wine glasses between them.

"I haven't been in this house in so long. I'm so sorry I missed your mother's funeral." Grace commented after her first sip.

"Thank you. It was a beautiful service." She replied before mentally adding just kidding, your evil ass husband arranged all this.

"So I brought food to make some stuffed chicken and quinoa." Ana started to unpack one grocery bag while Grace unpacked the other. She had no idea what Grace knew and her heart raced with panic.

"I have to run upstairs really quick and grab my phone." Grace acknowledged with a knowing smirk as she hurried.

"Tell him we need another bottle of wine when he comes." She called out. It took two calls before Christian answered.

"What?" He answered irritatingly. She gritted her teeth and waited out the urge to respond with a you fucked up this time reply.

"Your mother is here." She said calmly, scouring her room for a different shirt.

"What? Why the fuck is she there?" He growled back.

"She brought dinner. What does she know?"

"Nothing. She thinks we're real. I'll be there as soon as I can." He answered before hanging up. She threw her phone on the bed and in a panic searched for a different shirt. It wasn't technically a real meeting but it sure felt like one and she answered the door in yoga pants and a damn crop top.

_Grace doesn't care. _

Ana cared. Who she was in her bedroom and her home was sacred to her in a time that nothing felt in her control. Becoming dependent on the masks she wore, she settled in the middle of the room before letting the anxiety take its course. This was her life now. One anxiety attack away from either alcoholism or a Xanax prescription. Her closet taunted her. The slacks hanging over her door teased her feet to move towards them. Jesus, she was losing it. Her days as a laid back artist were numbered and she was fairly certain they just hit single digits. _This, _she thought was the product of being judged for your every move.

Looking in the mirror, she studied herself. Measuring the shirt, she decided it wasn't as bad as she thought. The usual crop tops currently trending as it covered her belly button but she still had about a three inch gap between the top of her yoga pants and her shirt. Feeling like an idiot for debating it in the first place she gave up. If Christian wanted to spend his energy criticizing her, then at least he wasn't indifferent. As much as she'd wished for it, his attention for some god forsaken reason felt wanted regardless of his intent. She headed back down, her mind an internal debate between turning back and moving forward.

Grace perched herself on a barstool. The oven was preheating and her fingers worked tediously at the chicken, trimming and preparing them to be stuffed. Grace directed her to the quinoa recipe before asking her where all the kitchen utensils were. They both prepared food with casual conversation. She explained per their publicist and prior interviews their relationship. Grace's happiness felt tangible between them, it almost made her heart melt. A mother's love, she thought as she finished up and began washing all their dishes. Ana didn't know if it were the fact that her back was facing Grace or the larger space between them now but the conversation took a turn towards much deeper topics than the superficial ones they just chatted about.

"Can I just say how grateful I am that Christian has you? I have always _always _worried about him. I'm sure his past is scary for you." Ana kept her gaze fixed on her hands navigating the dish water with none of her focus. Scary past echoed long after Grace had finished her sentence. Finally Ana nodded to suggest she knew but her heart hammered in her chest as she listened like a child eavesdropping on a conversation they knew for damn sure they shouldn't be.

"It was scary for me too when we adopted him and not for the reasons you might imagine. I grew terrified that he might always be haunted by his mother and her activities. Her being a prostitute and drug addict, I harbored a lot of hate for her. The things she allowed to happen to Christian, it makes me physically ill. I can't even comprehend." Graces voice trembled as Ana's hands did with only the distraction of the popping bubbles to keep her somewhat ground. She felt a tear carve a trail down her cheek as her imagination ran wild with different scenarios.

"He's always had a difficult time with women after her. His trust in them was shaky to begin with and our lifestyle didn't help. In fact I think it hardened him more. The girls." Grace scoffed at the last part. "They have flocked to my sons for their money and appearances. He's only known shallow women, desperate women doing anything for money, and untrustworthy women." Ana felt her heart drop to her stomach. Still hammering but now it came with nausea. No wonder his hate felt so colossal. Indifference was a present for her it seemed now that she knew some truth.

"I am so happy he found you. If you're anything like your mother, I know you have enough love in your heart for him. I am even happier he considers himself lovable. He'll try and push you away. I don't doubt it will be a continuous battle. Carrick is the same way. He used to do it because he always believed I'd leave anyway." They were interrupted by Christian and Ana felt her shoulders sag with relief. Her hands moved with routine movement, actions she didn't exactly think about before performing them. As she vaguely listened to Christian talking to Grace, she couldn't stop thinking about their conversation, about Christian.

"Hi." Ana flinched as she felt Christian hands snake around her waist and his lips press to her cheek. He moved his fingers to grip the curves above her hips, the scorching heat of his hands teasing her skin. She shifted nervously and she was grateful he stood as a shield between her and Grace because her discomfort was obvious. He dallied for a moment waiting for her to relax. And she did. Eventually she melted into his embrace, exhaustion moving quickly over her as she rested her head against his chest. It always happened like this. Reluctant at first, she seemed to fall easily into the simulated love. The effects similar to a drug and the temptation so appealing to lose all control.

"Hi." She replied flashing a small smile as he kissed her once more and retreated to the Kitchen Island. Hearing Christian apologize to Grace for keeping their relationship from her demonstrated a different side of him, a much less dominating side. He loved her…a lot, she thought quickly and without doubt. Pushing all her insecurities and fears aside, she decided she'd put on a performance with him the best she's ever done because it's important to him and she could relate. She wished the same blissful ignorance for her father.

"Who's ready to eat?" She asked excitedly, plastering a smile on and succumbing to the high that undoubtedly came with each exchange.

Dinner progressed smoothly. She smiled, played the usual supportive fiancé, and took every touch and kiss Christian gave her with believable comfort. Who was she kidding? She enjoyed it. Acting with Christian blurred the boundaries between reality and fantasy, and her feet found themselves only too eager to join Grace in ignorant bliss. So when Christian told her he loved her dressed down, she believed it despite her head sharply reminding her he wasn't real. They weren't real and it came with such a disintegrating sense of loss that she eclipsed herself even more with the lie. The time would come when he'd leave and she'd be forced to deal with the consequences but not right now. Right now, she received the chance to be happy even if she was only pretending because for seconds it felt real. For seconds her desires to have this, to have him and the mother in law at her dinner table were too valuable for her not to enjoy.

Christian kept his hand on her thigh, an action she didn't pay attention to until it was all she felt. The strength of his grip obscured all of her thoughts. The gesture was hidden from Grace therefore unnecessary yet his hand held her like an anchor. Ana kept her gaze fixed on Grace as she slid her hand to cover his. She felt him stiffen, his grip growing hard and unmoving yet shaking and eager to let go but tentatively she curled her fingers around his hand. Neither of them acknowledged it with a glance, they both just let it be.

"Well I better be getting home. Your father is probably wondering where I am." Grace told them as she finished the last sip of her wine. Christian's hand withdrew before they both stood and hugged her bye. Ana felt the lingering squeeze of their chests as Grace wouldn't allow her to pull away.

"Thank you." She whispered adding another squeeze for emphasis before letting go.

"Christian you are staying aren't you?" Grace asked as they both stared at each other in confusion.

"What?"

"Well she's not staying in this colossal home alone."

"Oh, of course not." Christian answered receiving a warm smile from Grace in response.

"Good. You both have a lovely evening then."

Ana watched Christian shut the door. She watched him pause as if searching the mahogany wood for direction.

"You don't have to stay. If she asks, I'll lie." Ana dismissively uttered as she turned to head back upstairs. The fall from her high began its numbing covering.

"I'm staying."


	6. Chapter 5

_I can't even begin to explain how thankful I am for the best readers out there. I'm sorry if I didn't get back to you all yet. I'm slowly but surely getting through all the reviews. A special thank you to Bronze Goddess who seemed to recommend my story. I am so incredibly humbled that people are sharing this story. Thank you, Thank you! Some more answers will be revealed in the next chapter. I hope you all enjoy this one! Also, sorry for mistakes. I really wanted to get this chapter out and literally only finished it twenty minutes ago. I only had time to run through it briefly before posting. One of these days I'll get it down...maybe. _

Chapter 5

Her mother once said that her job was to teach Ana that the world delivered consequences. As a parent, she would deliver the same to prepare her. She couldn't cry to get what she wanted. She could challenge something respectfully and they encouraged her to fight for her beliefs but she also had to have a valid argument to do so.

"Just like in the real world." Her mother would add constantly. "We are preparing you for a world we can't protect you from forever."

And currently that world was kicking her ass. Ana watched the flickers and movements of the flames of their fireplace thinking and trying not to think and then berating herself for trying to monitor her thoughts. The real world sucked! She thought ending the neurotic pacing's of her head. That was it. There was nothing else to it. The real world delivered a funeral, an arranged marriage, and an ass of a fiance all within a two week period. And it sucked.

Her fingers drummed rapidly against the braided throw she had draped over her. The room danced with the shadows thrown from the flames as her Kindle App went dark with her neglectful eyes. She sighed again thinking about Christian. There was a debate in college about Andrew Wyeth's art and she fell into the minority battling against a larger group with louder opinions. She felt that way when she thought about Christian. Praised by the media, his employees, and everyone she met besides herself, it was a battle to reconcile her opinions with others. Her reality, foggy as it felt, refused to give her clarity. Christian's hand on her thigh left her even more confused than usual. He was draining. Emotionally, her struggle continued its growth in trying to prepare herself for him only to have him add an entire new element she neglected to arm herself for.

Ana stilled as she heard movement on the stairs knowing it could only be Christian. She curled tighter into herself and turned on her kindle even though her attention was completely focused on the sounds of his footsteps approaching. The wood bent beneath his feet giving her the audible sounds of his weight and his mood because she heard him stop and pace outside of the living room. Back and forth he walked as she listened with weary curiosity.

"Christian?" She finally asked tiredly hoping to decide the direction for him. She watched the light of the fireplace flicker against his face as he walked in. He twirled his phone between his fingers as he sat in the leather chair across from her, positioning himself on the edge as if unsure he were going to stay or not. She wanted to laugh. She couldn't believe it. Looking at him she realized they were mirror images of each other. Both battling their internal struggle with their situation. He moved his phone to the side table and then returned his conflicted gaze to his hands. Running them almost violently against his jeans, he finally began to speak and she grew heavily grateful. Silence, she realized, sometimes eroded a relationship more than words.

"This is you isn't it?" He finally asked, his voice a deep bone penetrating hum with his restrained frustration. She sat straighter letting her brows knit in the same way as his with her confusion. His jaw clenched as he worked to explain himself. His gray eyes bore into hers almost forcing her to recognize his meaning without his clarity. He was so formidable when he took on that expression. He always exuded strength and his presence was one of great demand for attention if only because it radiated from him.

"Dressed down." He finally added with a slight growl. "The way I saw you tonight, the way I see you right now. _This _is you." He motioned a hand towards her and she glanced down at herself finally gathering his meaning.

"I mean I dress up sometimes." She replied with a shrug. "But yes, this is mostly me." He nodded at her validating response. His hands gripped his thighs tightly as she saw the veins of his forearms stand out with restraint.

"I ah. I've never been in a relationship before." He mumbled quietly. Visibly she tried to hide her shock but from the look he gave her, she didn't do it well. Thirty years old and he'd never dated someone, never felt the flutters of excitement of a new relationship, or the comfort of having someone, just someone to c claim even if it's only temporary.

"My last relationship was in high school and that was more infatuation now that I can view it with a less clouded head." She spoke trying and probably failing terribly to make him feel better. And what did she do, she decided to ramble because now the silence weighed too heavy and it ground her nerves from rope to flimsy strings.

"I dated John Taylor my junior and senior years of High School. I was in love in that I believed it completely then. He was nice, inclusive and only semi-dismissive in social situations. But most of the time he was good, perfect even according to my standards then. I found out he cheated on me and of course I made this huge display of breaking up with him. I called him all the right insulting names but I cried for him at night. I maintained this indifferent façade to everyone else but I wanted him back. I cried more for the loss of him than I did for his betrayal."

"Why would you cry for him?"

"I cringe now. My mother raised me stronger than that but love is a permanent mark. When you love, you give away permanently a piece of your heart and you expect for them to treat it the way you have envisioned it in your mind, the way you've been taught. This, my mother told me, is where I run into trouble. And people like to believe they get that piece back whether shattered or intact with cracks but I don't think so. I think the people we love hold it forever like a tattoo. Our exes are the tattoos we place where we can't see. After a while the excitement wears off, the regret goes away, and it merges to a place we only recall with reminders. But the tattoos that we wear proudly on our face and hands…" She couldn't help the shift of her vision to the picture of her parents on the fireplace mantle. "Those we will always look upon to remind ourselves of our standards for love."

Even more conflicted than in the beginning, she realized he might not have that. He wouldn't have a vision of love if he's only known it as pain. And as much as she hated him, she'd never wish that kind of life on even her worst enemy.

"I'm sorry about your mother." He didn't speak it with guilt but with conviction and his usual confidence returned.

"Thank you."

"I don't trust you." He spoke nonchalantly knowing he'd made that clear. It wasn't a new acknowledgment for either of them. "Do you trust me?" He questioned studying her and Ana stood walking past him to stoke the fire. She searched her thoughts for the right words.

"I trust you with this arrangement. Failure isn't an option for you." Ana looked back at him seeing his chest expand with controlled pride. "I trust your success and your accomplishments. I don't trust you with my feelings." With a hint of fear she admitted it. His mood was temperamental at best. She watched his eyes move to her chest, at the sharper breaths she was pulling in and then to part of her exposed stomach as he watched her there too.

"I'm going to shower." He said quickly as he left leaving only the echoes of their conversation for her to think about. She stayed near the fire for a while replaying the entire scene. A lone but loud whisper resonated from deep within her warning her against hope for them.

Interrupted by the sound of an unfamiliar ring tone, she found Christian's still on the end table next to the chair. She grabbed it and started moving up the stairs only to hear it quit ringing part way up.

"Christian." She called as she knocked on his door. She waited until she remembered that he was probably in the shower and she opened the door moving to the dresser to put his phone down. His reflection caught her attention from the bathroom mirror as he left the door slightly ajar.

Shock hit her like a bus. With a profile image of him, she watched him stroke himself holding himself against the wall with the arm not handling the dense weight of his shaft. His stomach pulled in and out severely with each desperate caress. Labored breaths erupted from his chest with a hiss and growls that turned into deep grunts as he fisted himself. His cock, she could only imagine hot in his hand and heavy with its size, stiffened with each stroke. The veins pulsed with desperate lust and his swollen head glistened with pre-cum which Christian stole easily with a thumb and merged it with each thrust.

She should leave but it was the hottest thing she'd ever witnessed. Ever.

Sweat began its slow descent down his back and chest both an expanse of rippling muscles with his movements. Driven by the heat pooling at her hips, she imagined her hand replacing his dropping to her knees and running her tongue along that large throbbing vein. He shuddered and it broke her reverie as she brought a hand over her mouth.

_I can't believe I just thought that. _

His strokes quickened, his fist tightened, and she saw the hand against the wall try and dig into the tile.

"Fuck." He groaned slowing his hand so his thumb could circle the pulsing head of his cock. His stomach twitched and he pulled his head back resuming the beating of his rigid rod. Her breathing began to match his, her heart the speed of his hand, and her need for his release growing desperate. The steam from the shower was beginning to fog the mirror and damn her if she wasn't feeling irritated at it.

Finally he came. A long cavernous groan left him as cum erupted onto his hand. He kept fisting, his hand clenched tight and his cock now glistening.

She left then. Her heart beat violently in her chest as she practically sprinted down the hall towards her room. God, she should've left. She hated him but…but there was something so incredibly virile and erotic about the way that he masturbated. Her breathing now ragged, she slid down the door as it closed. She needed to get laid. It had been years and when that became too depressing to think about, she climbed from the floor to her bed, shut off her bedside lamp and allowed her hand to slide into her panties. She brought herself to a climax not as hatefully as she should be thinking of Christian as she did.

Ana woke exhausted. She didn't sleep much the night before. Dragging herself out of bed, she showered and dried her hair. Leaving her face clear of makeup was just easier for a photo-shoot and they had one today, together. Ana groaned. She didn't know how she was supposed to be around him today. Quietly, she tip toed down the hall breathing a sigh of relief when she his bedroom empty. She moved with the same quiet footsteps she mastered in high school down the stairs.

"Christian?" Another step and she paused to listen either to hear him reply or to hear movement but she heard neither. Feeling some of her anxiety ease, she walked into an empty kitchen and a note on their kitchen island.

_Work. I'll meet you at the house. _

_-C_

Direct, indifferent, and to the point. Christian. She ate quickly and headed out to their estate. The driveway looked the same, scattered with vehicles and construction workers. As she parked, she sat in her car taking deep breaths preparing herself for the day. Their conversation from the night before threatened her efforts. His first ounce of vulnerability and it lasted a matter of ten minutes. Still a victory but it left her even more confused. She refused to even touch what happened after. Content to just forget about it, she finally got out of the car.

Seattle Magazine wanted a cover shot and three other shots of them for their article. Hair and makeup passed faster today and they preferred a much more subtle look with both make-up and clothes. They dressed her in charcoal gray high waisted pants with a plum tank top and a black blazer. She looked like a match for Christian as he approached her in his even darker gray tailored suit. They went with a white undershirt, a patterned vest and a plum tie before ushering them both into the study. Christian embraced her, kissed her temple before pulling her towards his desk. It was the largest mahogany desk she'd ever seen encompassing all of Christian's presence with the ornate carvings of the wood. The photographer directed Christian to sit while ordering her to stand behind him and drape her hands around his neck. Christian caught one of her wrists and held it getting a slew of compliments from the photographer before he started shooting. His touch felt sexual. His proximity became a working reminder of what she witnessed the night before. She shook her head trying to rid the distraction but his thumb then worked a slight graze across her wrist driving shivers from her.

"Are you okay?" He asked through a smile and she could only reply with a m-hmm before working her breath under control. She could feel the slow even rise of his chest with his easily controlled breaths. He was a master of his environment and she guessed that's what shocked her more about the evening before. She'd seen him stripped (literally) if only for a moment of his guarded demeanor.

"I'm fine." She replied shortly. The photo-shoot progressed frustratingly and painfully slow. They moved them to the couch in front of the fireplace before changing them both into casual attire for a different photo. She fell easily again into the act even after her harder efforts to fight it. And she was certain he knew that she saw him last night because his touches were curiously carnal. He grazed the inside of her thigh, the column of her neck and at her waist during their break. Finally dismissed from her duties, she changed and went down to the kitchen where her considerate fiancé had ordered her lunch of a salad.

"Hey." She turned at Daniel's familiar voice and worked fast to finish her bite of spinach.

"Hey!" She replied as he leaned casually against the far wall. Dressed in his usual attire of jeans, a long sleeved V-neck and a tool belt he was a welcomed sight. Anything authentic at this point helped to cleanse her palate.

"Another picture deal?" He asked with genuine curiosity.

"Yes. This is the last for a while. Thank God."

"Oh this is your attention issue at play?" He joked and she laughed eyeing him with a playful glare.

Christian stormed into the kitchen with a look she'd never seen on him.

"Stay away from my Fiancé!" He growled planting himself in front of Daniel. "Ana, let's go."

"Christian!" She yelled completely mortified.

"Excuse me?" Daniel replied pulling his frame from the counter he was leaning on.

"Stay the fuck away from my Fiancé." Christian stepped forward, his body uncharacteristically rigid.

"Jesus Christ Christian." She moved towards him her own anger blending with his.

"We were just talking." Daniel answered eyeing her as she approached only to garner more of Christian's attention and he slammed Daniel back against the wall.

"Don't." Christian warned, his voice wavering with his restraint. She grabbed his arm and pulled him away only to have him snatch his arm away. She mouthed an embarrassed apology at Daniel who only dismissed her with a flippant wave but she saw his fear.

"What the fuck was that?" She asked as she stormed to her car. He followed and by the sounds of his shoes against the bricks, he was still just as pissed.

"You are driving me crazy! Fucking crazy!" He yelled at her but only because the noise of the construction drowned him out to everyone but her. "I saw the way you looked at him!" He growled again shoving a finger in her face. His audacity sent a wave of rage through her.

"The way I looked at him? You flaunt a fuck buddy in front of me and I'm the offensive one! How dare you!" He glared at her which she met with all her pent up emotional tornado of anger.

"I knew I couldn't trust you."

"Let's not pretend you ever did or that you ever will."

"Well sneaking into my room last night definitely didn't help either. You are exactly the gold digging whore I thought you were. Don't ever embarrass me like that again." He stormed off and her chest clenched tighter around her lungs as she fought tears. Sliding into her car, she sat until she could breathe comfortably again. A half hour passed before she finally drove home in a state of physical and emotional exhaustion. She refused to acknowledge the tears that carved traitorous trails down her cheeks as she drove. She just drove and she had an overwhelming sense of resentment when she pulled into her driveway and saw her home. And that was just icing on the cake for the day.

"What am I doing?" Ana exhaled as she curled her knees into her chest and sat on the floor. The blank canvas before her taunted her creativity, begging it to come out to play but she had nothing. Chewing at the inside of her lip, she just stared at the white square perched on her easel. She made a pallet of colors, all shades of purples and blues, her favorite color combination but even that sat beside her with mainly adornment purpose.

Three weeks in and less than two and a half months until her wedding, a wedding that eluded all her sense of acknowledgment. She had no idea who was planning it or what her centerpieces might be. Christian demanded and received and so she assumed he hired someone to take care of it all. It might not have been out of spite to not ask her opinions but it sure as hell felt like it.

Abruptly, she snatched a paintbrush from her jar and swiped it across her canvas, just one lone stroke of midnight blue. It had no purpose. No set direction. It was lost. God, she was lost. Especially after yesterday, Christians mortifying display of possession. She'd call it jealousy but that required him to feel something and she was pretty damn sure he felt only a need to possess everything. She sighed filling her lungs with the paint tainted air of her studio, breathing it in with a slow desperation.

"This is what happens when you don't paint." She breathed out harshly.

"Talking to yourself?" She heard Ruth ask and she turned to see her standing at the door with hot chocolate in hand.

"I'm of the eccentric group right?" Ana quipped back smiling at the distraction.

"I did say that once didn't I?" Ruth approached slowly careful not to spill her drink and sat in the chair at her desk.

"I thought you might like some. It usually calms you." Ana nodded and abandoned the lost cause, she called her art.

"What's going on?" She shrugged always debating how much she should reveal and how much she actually wanted to say out loud.

"I hate him." She spoke clearly, hearing it through the fog her mind kept creating. Ruth laughed almost in confusion.

"I thought we established this."

"I miss him." Ana blurted in no graceful manner. "I mean not him, but who he is when we're together in public. I can pretend to be happy and to be in love. And even if only some of it is authentic, a small part, it's something. It's more than I have right now." She rambled, her words running together in panic. She hated to admit all that shit. It pissed her off.

"I can't do this anymore; live in this limbo, this wonderland. What would you think if I got an apartment just for myself? I wouldn't tell Christian about it. It would just be something of my own, my space to paint or just to be alone whenever I get a chance." Ruth sighed an agreeing response.

"I think you are 24 years old and you've been static the past five years. I also think it's time you find yourself outside of all this crazy stuff. Your mother always hated how you put your life on hold and I know that right now this might seem small but I think it will make a difference." Ruth replied running her hand down her back. "You need that feeling of independence right now."

"And control." She added. And it was her mother she kept hearing the past two days. She was right. Ana couldn't cry to get what she wanted. She also couldn't bury herself in the role of victim because it was easy. "I don't have much money set aside but it should be enough for a year and hopefully I can paint and sell them under an alias to make some money to keep it up." Because Lord knows she couldn't paint here. She felt too much resentment for everything there and she hated feeling that way. She hated giving Christian the power to take that from her.

"Is there anyone that can go with you to look at apartments? I don't want you to be taken advantage of." Ruth asked and she knew she had to keep it a secret. And then she remembered Daniel, a contractor who no doubt would know how to judge a new place and also tell her what she might need to fix if anything. She still cringed after the day before and she knew it might take some convincing but it was worth a try. She also felt like she could trust him with the secret which considering her current situation was a miracle she had any trust to give.

"I know someone." Ruth gave her gentle pats of content as she left Ana. Looks like she might need his services after all.


	7. Chapter 6

_Again, thank you all so so much for reading and reviewing. I am trying hard to keep up with replying. I'm also sorry for the delay in chapters. This chapter is more of a filler. The next couple chapters will be some of my favorites to write and really start to change the dynamic between them. Christian's pov won't be given again until Chapter 9 which is the big reveal chapter. Enjoy. Thank you all again and sorry for any mistakes. _

**Chapter 6**

It took less than two days to contact landlords and look at apartments. Some were duplexes and smaller than her bedroom but she didn't need much and to be honest just the feeling of independence was a high enough to make everything mimic a castle. Of course, she decided to look alone knowing Ruth would have a fit seeing some of the spaces she looked at and she still wasn't quite sure about Daniel. She'd never been a spiteful person. In fact her mother made a tremendous effort to thwart such "pettiness" as she'd called it. Life was too short not to feel compassion for those that couldn't feel it themselves because that was a burden heavy in itself. Even still as she thought of Christian, she felt a strong sense to slap him and throw words at him with spears of hate but that angered her more. It meant she cared more than she desired to and she strongly wished for his indifference.

The only apartment available immediately and within her price range was the second floor of a duplex. It had stairs of death to climb with only these scoured black pads to catch her footing. It was 900 square feet with one bedroom and a small bathroom. The kitchenette positioned itself opposite the bedroom in a small L-shape. She didn't need much space though with her only intent to paint and sleep there on nights she needed the isolation. With her hands on her hips, she looked at the tiny space with such a sense of freedom and accomplishment that she almost cried.

Even the white fridge bearing marks of taped pictures looked exciting. The washer and dryer she would only use minimally sent a wave of giddiness through her. It was odd, she knew it but she couldn't help it. Her own bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen! She could be domestic in her own setting. Hell, Ruth trained her well over the past couple years as she isolated herself at home. Three days of semi-freedom, at least free from Christian. He announced an emergency trip to Chicago for four days; although, she had a strong suspicion he did it just to get away from her for a while. Especially after his temper tantrum with Daniel. Fine with her, she thought with a dismissive shrug. The only problem was that her hot water wasn't working and the tap sputtered water more than the fluid flow one expected. Ana signed the contract knowing all repairs were up to her. The landlord must have sensed her desperation and impatience and put that clause in there at the last minute and if she truly wasn't so eager for it, she wouldn't have signed. But she needed the space yesterday. Sitting in the middle of her bare living room she pulled out her phone and Daniel's card just staring at them both as the internal debate began. After two failed attempts at calling, she finally allowed the phone to call past two rings. Nervously her leg bounced as she tried to convince herself to hang up.

"Hello." Daniel answered.

"Um Hey! It's Ana." She hoped her ears were the only ones to hear the quiver in her voice.

"Hey! How are ya?"

"Fine. I um have a problem with my apartment. I was wondering if you would maybe take a look or just tell me how to fix it over the phone."

"I tell ya what, I've got about another two hours here and I can shoot by after. Do you mind waiting until then?"

"No, that's fine. Thank you!"

"Just text me the address."

"Okay. Hey, about the other day with Christian."

"Don't worry about it Ana." He reassured her before offering a quick good-bye and hanging up. Grabbing her hat and sunglasses, she left to the hardware store to get paint and tools feeling the hard beat of indecision pulse through her about Daniel coming over.

Ana pulled into her apartment driveway the same time Daniel did.

"Hey!" He called as he got out and walked towards her. "Need some help?"

"Yes actually. Be careful on the stairs of death though." She warned playfully as she passed him two cans of paint which he took before taking more of her bags from her hands.

"You don't have to."

"It's no big deal." He shrugged as she grabbed the last bag and followed him up. She watched him walk in and study the apartment. God, what he must be thinking? The fiancé of a billionaire with a place like this.

"Art Studio." She mumbled trying to fill the silence.

"Secret Art Studio." He corrected with a wayward smirk before putting the paint down. "It's nice."

"Thank you." He walked into the bedroom before coming back and surveying the kitchen and beginning to look at the kitchen faucet. She decided to busy herself with uncapping the paint and getting her roller ready.

"I'm sorry again about Christian."

"Yeah, he's intense." He looked at her with a piercing curiosity almost begging her to explain but she just nodded.

"I know. It's complicated. _He's _complicated." She replied.

"I won't ask about you two. I'm sure you have your reasons for calling me and keeping this place a secret. I'll keep your secret." She exhaled a sigh of relief. With the elephant of the room addressed, their conversation felt much easier to deal with.

"Thank you so much. I know I must seem crazy."

"You seem in need of a friend. That's all." He answered before heading down to grab his tools. He fixed the sink in silence, testing the faucet and then leaving again as he found the water heater downstairs. Coming back up, he made her watch a demonstration of his skills as the faucet now ran fluidly and warmly.

"Thank you so much!" He gave a boyish shrug like it was child's play before opening another roller and joining her.

"So how did you get into painting?" He asked as he moved to the opposite end of the room and began to paint. She dipped her roller and pressed it against the wall watching the paint form in rectangular streaks as the memory returned along the same path.

"Well, my mother was a professor teaching Introduction to Renaissance Studies at Bainbridge Graduate Institute. She had this large Amphitheatre for a classroom and I had to go one day because my babysitter was sick. I had my Polly pockets all on the floor in the last row just listening to her voice and whispering some pretend play trying not to be loud. I think I was 7 if I remember correctly. Anyway, I grew bored. I started to just move seats watching my mother and watching her students as they all listened to her. I thought it was weird then. As much as I loved her, I thought everything she was saying was pretty boring."

"I think even I would have played with your Polly Pockets." He joked inspiring a playful scoff from her.

"Well she changed the sheet and Botticelli's Primavera flashed on the projector. I just remember being so mesmerized by it."

"Is it a famous painting or something?" He asked with no recognition and the art snob in her painted with her mouth agape but just murmured an agreeing yep. It was in that moment she realized how different this conversation would be with Christian and she sensed a yearning flood through her for that conversation, for his company.

"It's very famous piece of work motivating many debates but the first time I saw it…" She put her paintbrush down trying to find the words to describe that feeling. "Being 7, it's hard to be amazed. I believed everything existed. I think children are more often than not validated than amazed. We feel our beliefs in magic constantly validated and that's what that painting felt like to me, magic. It was ethereal, romantic, and feminine with no forward or loud colors but this subdued sensuality. The painting to my eyes was hypnotic and I remember just begging my mother to print it from the computer. I still have that same copy in my room. I wanted to make that magic, I told her repeatedly."

"I wish I felt that way with being a contractor." Daniel replied as he stood on his toes to reach the ceiling.

"My father, still working, handled all of our home renovations himself. Shit, half of them didn't end well and we eventually had to call someone. My mother would bring the house down with her high pitched bitching about it but she was easy to soothe when it came to my father. Anyway, I just grew up watching him, watching the professionals, and then it was the easiest thing for me to do. Now, I couldn't imagine doin anything else." He shrugged with an indifference that saddened her.

"I love it, don't get me wrong but I've never felt it to be magical. I guess I understand why you bought this place now. I'd sell a kidney to keep that." They both then laughed as they continued to paint until they met each other in the middle. He stood tall next to her although not as tall as Christian; he still held a confidence about him. His eyes were different. Simple intelligence shone from his, a genuine air of modesty that was so different from Christian's. Christian's eyes bore all the intensity that his life held. From his past to his present, they were filled with a quick witted and worldly intelligence, confident and controlling gaze, and most of all distrust for everyone. Just one look and she shielded herself and not because she was afraid of him but because she knew he would find something deceiving about her. Ana shook her head ridding her thoughts of him. This was her space. Totally and completely hers.

Daniel left that day with no expectations of her. He demanded nothing but a smile from her as he walked to his truck. Ana watched him leave, waving and already feeling nostalgic for his company. It was the first time in months, she'd left company feeling better than she did going in. The conversation progressed easily, the silences failed to reach that awkwardness when its weight mixed with tension, and she realized what most people must feel after hanging out with a best friend or someone they loved. This, she thought as she looked at the painted wall of her living room and remembered the numerous times their laughter echoed through the small space, this is what it _should _be like. Christian began his routine sneaking descent into her mind but trying not to lose her triumph; she turned quickly and walked back into _her _apartment.

Two days of finally being alone and getting all of art supplies moved to her apartment provided an insane feeling of victory. The depression she kept claiming she never had started to lessen. She couldn't say it completely vanished but it eased to something easier to bear. After reciting her story about Botticelli's Primavera, her desire to paint magic returned with a vengeance. She'd been sitting cross legged in front of a canvas for hours painting slowly her journey. It poured out of her with vivacious release. She first sketched her own face, a portrait that should come easily but more often than not it was easier to draw someone else than yourself. To draw yourself equated to a psychologist studying their own behavior, diagnosing your imperfections with a biased eye. After she finished six sketches of herself all separated by thick painted black lines, she started on the first mask representing the time of her mother's death. She looked at her pallete of paint colors and began to mix the black and white to form a dark gray heavy with depth of loss. Most would paint black but the color felt too concrete for her, too final. Even as she heard her mother take her last breath, she just couldn't comprehend her death as a loss. Simply put and without any further thought she knew she hadn't found any resolution yet. She stopped painting that particular mask at that point and glancing at it, the pause in paint color, the harsh ridges discontinuing their journey, it looked so fitting. She knew she had compartmentalized her grief. The pain was too much to bear and so she moved to the next mask symbolizing the beginning of her relationship with Christian. She kept the same gray from before painting a base color for the mask beneath her eyes. In the middle she brushed the now green bristles across the middle to signal her hope and she made it a thin line because as fast as it sparked, it burned just as quickly leaving her to finish the rest and top of the mask in a dark gray. He hardened her.

Therapeutic in a sense but more enraged were her feelings and not even with Christian but more at herself. Staring at the third mask she completed, her heart burned with rejuvenating anger. With her anger accompanied an even more invigorating layer of healing. And she wasn't naïve or impatient enough to believe it was permanent nor was she suddenly completely cured of her issues but it was a start. A small and inspiring start.

The next day, she casually prepared herself for an event with Christian. Not even home for ten minutes and he'd already called her, demanded her presence at a charity dinner that evening, and also told her he was having a dress sent over. She hung up with a shiver. Feeling her skin bubble with a chill and Goosebumps rise in response, she knew she should check her mother's closet for a dress just in case. Ana stood and padded down the hallway feeling her footsteps echo loudly in her ears while her heart began to race. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been in her mother's closet. Standing outside the closed door, Ana stared at her feet willing them to move. She sent her brain orders sometimes laced with expletives hoping her feet would just move. Her heart pounded roughly in her chest as her lungs inflated with similar harsh movement.

She heard the sound of her doorbell pierce her panic and she bolted from her parents' bedroom hellishly relieved for the escape. She just wasn't ready yet.

Wiping her eyes with clumsy effort, she opened the door to see Sawyer holding a garment bag with unfamiliar hands. He lifted it higher as if afraid she might be offended some of the bottom grazed her front stairs.

"Ma'am." He spoke habitually as he moved the dress towards her. "From Mr. Grey."

"Thank you Sawyer. I suppose I'll be seeing you again soon." She muttered flippantly as she took the garment bag from him.

"Actually Ma'am, Mr. Grey will be escorting you tonight. He'll be here at six and asks for you to be ready _on _time." She rolled her eyes but nodded at Sawyer who hesitantly allowed the corner of his lips to turn up into a smirk.

"Thank you again!" She spoke again and with more humility than before giving him a quick hug before taking the dress back in. She refused to open it until she was in her bedroom. Taking one deep breath, she reminded herself to brace herself for some stringy Herve Leger dress he never expected her to bandage herself in. Pulling down the zipper, she stepped back stunned. Pulling the label free, she stared at it confused and emulated one of Christian's cynical gazes. Oscar De La Renta, the tag read as she then studied the dress and all its exquisite intricate details. With a sweetheart neckline, the gray dress mimicked a 1950's feel as it fulled out around the waist into an asymmetrical skirt. The gray fabric adorned with swirls of silver beading intricately placed throughout the dress was reminiscent of some renaissance patterns. At the bottom of the garment bag lay a neatly tied silver gift bag and Oscar De La Renta gray stilettos. She picked up the bag and opened it to find Crystal Tear Drop earrings. Three different shaped and sized diamonds connected by mini clasps. She fell back on her bed racking her brain for meaning. She just couldn't trust it didn't mean anything and she couldn't trust it meant anything romantic. Cautiously she finished getting ready and began to put everything on. The dress fit perfectly as did the shoes. Within her confusion came the most absurd vision of an elf sneaking into her bedroom at night and measuring her until she remembered she'd been measured several times for their photo shoots.

Ana paced her living room downstairs grateful that her father wasn't home and that Ruth had left for the weekend again to see her son. During the past couple years, Ruth's visits withered to barely once every couple of months. Ana hated she felt so bound to them and knew Ruth felt obligated to stay and help with her mother. So her absence now, regardless of how much Ana missed her, was a good thing. Her stilettos provided a soundtrack for her hurried thoughts as her heels met her hardwood floor with a sharp snapping sound. Finally, she heard the doorbell and she paused, took one last deep breath, and then made her way towards the door.

"Ready?" Christian asked distractedly as he typed away on his phone. She stepped out and pulled the lapels of her coat tighter as the biting wind brushed her exposed skin. He didn't bother to look so she followed him to the car only to stop midway and grab his forearm.

"What the hell?"

"What does this mean?" She asked seeing him finally acknowledge her presence. His eyes ran down her pausing with every clench of his jaw. His face seemed to harden before he worked his expression back to indifference.

"What are you referring to Ana?" He asked impatiently as she buttoned her coat back up.

"This dress, the shoes, and the jewelry." She snapped back growing even more irritated with the chill crawling across her face. Christian shrugged.

"This is a last minute event; I figured you might need a dress to wear. I had no other ulterior motive. I truly do not give much thought to styling you, that's why I hire people for it. I gave an order that's it. Do you really want to go to war over a dress?" She studied him. He stood his usual confident pose, crossing his arms waiting for her response.

"My pride is never reason enough to go to war." She finally answered and walking away from him before turning around. "Maybe one of these days you'll realize your pride isn't either." He narrowed his eyes at her but she turned before he could truly get his hate for her across with a pointed stare.

The car ride felt just as frigid as the weather outside. Much of their silence carried the same weight as the heavy bitter wind beating against their vehicle. Christian kept his attention glued to his phone while she watched the passing landscape with a growing irritation. Her phone went off and she dug through her clutch to find it.

**Daniel: Random tip I heard the decorator at ur house say to one of my guys. "Turn ur toilet into a conversation piece by changing the design or color." Who did you hire?**

Ana burst into a fit of laughter. Christian eyed her suspiciously as she began to text back on her phone.

**Ana: Lol. Get her out of my house immediately. **

**Daniel: Done. In the back of the van rolled in tarp. That's what you meant right?**

**Ana: Murderer tip #1: Do not text your crime to anyone. **

**Daniel: I had no idea you were so informed on killing wise one. **

Ana put her phone away when she felt Christian watching her.

"Who are you smiling at?" He asked as he put his own phone away.

"A friend." She answered with an authority she hadn't used before.

"What kind of friend?"

"What kind of friends do you have?" She quipped back staring him down hoping that his hypocrisy could be discussed again.

"The beneficial kind." He shot back almost lustily as he smiled. It forced her to remember him stroking himself and her cheeks blushed before she looked away. The silence was heavy with something else, something warmer than the chill of their detachment from each other.

"I didn't mean to sneak in on you." She heard herself utter with a voice that sounded miles away from her own ears.

"How much did you see?" He asked finally making her bear the entire weight of her mortification which was crazy. She wasn't the one caught masturbating between either of them but of course Mr. Confidence also had no shame. With even more embarrassment, she actually could see why. There was nothing embarrassing about his scene; it was pure carnal display at its finest. Her cheeks must have looked like she'd been outside for a couple hours because out of the corner of her eye, he just nodded.

"I see."

"I'm sorry." She turned and blurted only to feel his weight suddenly pressed against hers crushing her against the door. His eyes narrowed and through them she didn't see confidence. She saw a certain vulnerability that switched quickly to anger.

"Tell me…" He whispered against her neck, his breath a similar heat against her skin as the sun's rays on a cloudless day. And damn her body for responding. Damn her chest for showing him visibly her arousal at the touch of his fingers at her calves. Damn her breathing for faltering as he looked at her again. Damn it all and damn him…again.

"Did you touch yourself that night?" He asked, his lips caressing the lobe of her ear with faint touches. Ana closed her eyes trying to gain her composure but his fingers moved farther up her leg. "Did you imagine me fucking your mouth with my cock?" Her brows knit as she struggled with the unwanted heat beginning to stir at her hips. His words so raw and uninhibited did something to her she never thought they would. And she realized he was completely and undeniably in his element.

"Get off me." She whispered only to have him slowly pull away from her.

"I will always be in control of us, of you. It's what you signed up for." He hissed at her stroking her cheek with condescending complement. Ana's breathe still coming in short pants stopped as she saw the hotel come into view. Relief for the oncoming escape came at the perfect time. She couldn't stand to be next to him and even with his demon of control, Christian sat restlessly. He was just as affected as her and she wondered if he had just tested her. The only question she couldn't answer was if she won or not and she had a strong suspicion he had no idea either.

The charity dinner fell into the routine with the many others they had attended together; although, there was a palpable tension between them both. Danielle kept glaring at them from a different table but luckily she disappeared for a good hour. It wasn't until the night was over and they were heading to their waiting vehicle that they heard her voice again.

"Not so fast you two!" Danielle ordered. Ana inhaled a frustrated breath that Christian emulated with his hands running viciously through his hair. He'd been short all night not just with her but everyone. They turned around to see Danielle standing with a hand on her hip and her foot tapping impatiently

"I know, I know…" Ana began hoping to avoid an entire conversation chastising their behavior.

"I don't want to hear it. You two looked like you were ready to sign divorce papers and you're not even married yet. So, I am sending you both to Christian's cabin in Colorado for three days."

"Excuse me?" She heard Christian growl as he stepped towards Danielle with a familiar predatory stance. "You don't dictate my schedule. I have a billion dollar empire to manage which usually fares better with my presence."

"It's done. You're empire will be just fine."

"Don't fucking test me Danielle."

"I'm not. I'm slapping some sense into you. You are taking Ana to your cabin for a last trip before the wedding so you two can get some time alone amidst the chaos of the wedding planning. At least that is the statement I have provided the press. So, you are going. You both will survive. Your empire will be fine. The private jet is waiting and everything has been provided for you both. Ana, your father knows. I'll also be asking for your cellphones."

Ana's rapid heartbeat was all she could hear in her ears as she watched this scene unfold. Being isolated in a cabin during winter…awesome. Being isolated in a cabin during winter _with _Christian…not so much. With resignation she shut off her phone and handed it over watching Christian curse and pace the concrete. Ana left them both, pulling herself into their limo and waited. She could hear Christian arguing outside with Danielle and five minutes later he finally got back in the car, slamming the door shut.

"You were no help out there." He roared at her as his fingers drummed against his pants already aware of the missing cellphone.

"You're in control." She replied simply and poured herself a glass of champagne from the icebox. It was a thirty minute drive to the tarmac where Christian's plane awaited them. She got out, ascended the stairs and found the bag with a change of clothes in them. Pulling on some leggings and an oversized sweater, she almost contemplated staying in the bathroom which was almost the same size as their guest bathroom at home. She could take a bath the entire flight but decided she'd much rather face him than hide. Her purse lay on the table along with an already opened bottle of champagne. She poured another glass and grabbed her book watching Christian emerge from bedroom in jeans and t-shirt. She sat and curled up under a blanket and started to read. Vaguely aware of Christian pacing again, she lowered her book and stared at him.

"Is everything okay?" He looked at her with the same conflicted expression he wore the night he stayed with her. His inner struggle continued but eventually he lowered himself next to her. Ana sat straighter and closed her book watching as he ran his hands over his jeans and then eventually through his hair.

"I'm sorry." He growled before growing even more irritated with himself. "I'm sorry." He tried again in a gentler tone.

"For what?" She asked warmly. It wasn't a question with malicious intent but genuine curiosity because God knows he had a couple things to apologize for.

"For the limo earlier. I don't know what." He stopped again and then settled back against the couch rubbing at his face now. His defined jaw clenched and unclenched as she waited for him to finish. Finally turning to her again she was shocked to see a much warmer expression than she'd ever seen him wear.

"Right now I have a woman claiming sexual harassment. She's threatening to take legal action if I don't pay her 2 million dollars." Ana listened intently.

"I didn't do it." He added hastily. "She always stayed late at night to work and only one night was I there in my office while she was in hers alone. She claims that night I harassed her but I didn't even talk to her that evening." He spoke honestly. She'd seen his tell-tale signs of lying at the many events and the many interviews they had given. Her hand moved to his twining her fingers to connect them.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" He shook his head and then abruptly stood up. She found some comfort that he didn't snatch his hand away but instead gently placed her hand back in her lap before he moved back towards the bedroom.

"I'm trying." He spoke over his shoulder. "I'm really trying with you."

She nodded to acknowledge she'd heard him before watching him disappear into the bedroom. Three days of him trying, she said to herself failing to settle the anxiety that his track record with "trying" wasn't the greatest. What choice did she have now?


	8. Chapter 7

_Sorry for the wait! I hope you all enjoy this chapter. Thank you so much again for the reviews! I have decided to break the cabin up into two chapters. So the next chapter will involve the cabin as well! _

**Chapter 7**

"Ana." She heard a familiar voice penetrate the haze of her dreams which currently involved her apartment, a talking painting of Christian, and her walls no longer the green she painted them but gray, all gray. Turning over the painting of Christian which she must admit captured him well with an all-black outline and eyes that narrowed at her as she did.

"Ana!" Her eyes flung open as she searched Christian's face and then studied the new room she lay in.

"We're here." He spoke tolerably as he left the bedroom. Bedroom? Her hands frantically searched the space around her. Still covered in the blanket from the main cabin, she sat up slowly feeling a hangover of exhaustion. He'd brought her into the bedroom after she'd fallen asleep. Ana didn't know quite how to feel about that nor did she have the energy to process it all in its contradictory information. Falling back onto the bed, she rubbed at her eyes and stretched languidly before finally rising. The space next to her was smooth as the professional hands that most likely made the bed in the first place. She didn't believe he'd sleep next to her but the thought did send a jolt of energy through her to escape the space. She gathered her things before descending the stairs in the private hangar they were parked in. Christian pulled up in a black Range Rover while the staff from the plane loaded their bags into the back. Hesitantly she waited until Christian climbed back into the driver's seat after thanking the staff. Ana did the same and climbed into the passenger's seat hoping their drive to his cabin was just around the cabin. No. Such. Luck.

Two and a half hour drive the robotic voice of his GPS told them and they were just outside of Denver heading west into what looked like nothing on the map. It was also two in the morning which she hated for him to drive the entire way especially considering he hadn't slept at all.

"I can drive if you want since I slept."

"No." He shot back quickly as they pulled out of the airport and onto a pitch black road with the only surrounding lights of those illuminating the runway. God and she didn't even have her phone to play candy crush. Settling deeper into her seat, Ana curled her legs up and watched the passing landscape. The lights of Denver were distant but noticeable as they turned onto I-70. She then analyzed Christian between the fringes of her hair. He sat rigidly yet dominating the entire space of the car with his obvious discomfort with her. In a fleece pullover, she had never before seen him so casual. It looked good on him, made him look younger than his thirty years. He had a boyish appearance with his trussed hair but the signs of a missed day of shaving roughened him up. The difference of his demeanor to her when he wasn't in a tailored suit was crazy. He went from domineering to rugged in a matter of a change of clothes and landscape.

Thirty minutes. She'd endured the silence for thirty minutes before striking up a conversation which was probably her personal best.

"When did you buy the cabin?" Christian kept his eyes focused on the road but at least offered a quick glance from the corners of his eyes to let her know she did in fact say that out loud and not just in her head.

"Four years ago."

"Right after the Newton Deal?" She asked recalling details from the articles she read to learn more about him. Christian swiveled his head to face her, his brows furrowing at her question.

"How do you know about that?"

"I read it in an article. I had to learn about you somehow." She shrugged stretching her legs as far as she could before pulling them back onto the seat. Christian watched curiously.

"Why didn't you just ask me?" Ana couldn't help the laugh that inadvertently bubbled out of her. She dipped her chin and raised her eyebrows.

"Really?" His lips curved to show a small smile before he turned his attention back to the road. God forbid, he allows her to witness a genuine smile.

"Well is there anything you want to know?" His hesitance to offer was noticeable with the tightening of his hands on the steering wheel. Ana smiled at their progress, not much but it was something.

"Hmm." She echoed playfully narrowing her eyes at him. Hoping to lighten the mood, she decided against personal questions. Maybe by the end of the three days, she'd feel comfortable to ask but not now.

"Favorite Artist."

"I have too many." He replied quickly but the relief was audible in his voice. "I favor more conservative art works specifically renaissance."

"Makes sense. Your office is filled with them. So no modern art for you then?"

"I like certain types of modern art. It takes a lot to draw my attention like the one I bought at the art gallery that night. That's probably the most modern piece I've purchased recently."

"How do you even know so much about Art?" She went to school for it and she had full confidence he could match her in a debate.

"Money provides you with a lot of knowledge if you use it right. I travel a lot and at first Art was something I purchased just to own something valuable and the more I purchased, the more I learned. I have developed a much deeper understanding and appreciation for it over the years. Art is a beautiful form of expression. You can find many different Artists capturing something you've only thought about in abstract terms. It's magnificent to see an idea brought to life." Ana smiled completely captivated by his reverence and understanding. They talked about Botticelli, Bellino, Caravaggio, and several other artists. He played a mixture of classical and Johnny Cash which she found absolutely appropriate for him. The car ride wasn't so horrible after all.

Finally the GPS led them to their last turn onto a small paved road and large hand carved wooden gates. Christian entered the code and descended the drive. Woods surrounded them with much left to the imagination as she could only see hints of their branches and silhouettes. Lights caught her attention as they finished driving the curvy driveway and settling before the most intricate and beautiful front entrance she'd ever seen. Two log trunks, the roots defined and planted on top of the paved brick, stood officiously framing the two large wooden doors with hypnotic attention.

"Christian…" She heard herself utter, her feet quickly removing themselves from the car and her hands with the same eagerness tracing the trunks to their roots. "This is absolutely breathtaking."

Ana looked back at him noticing his somewhat hidden appreciation for her compliment but he shrugged and offered a shorthanded explanation that he liked how it bordered intimidating and welcoming. Smiling, she thought it sounded exactly like him.

"Oh! You're here! I'm so excited." She heard a voice, warm with age, interrupt her admiring session. Standing up, she was greeted by an older woman most likely in her late fifties but with a face aged from weather and hard work. Her hands worn by obvious labor reached for Ana's cheeks.

"My dear, you are as beautiful as he described." Blushing she looked back at Christian to see him busying himself with the bags. Ana's breaths halted in her chest as the older woman pulled her to her chest in a bear hug. "It is so nice to meet you. I have half a mind to beat that young man for keeping you from me."

"Well, I mean I wouldn't stop you." She replied with a shrug of one shoulder playfully. She truly wouldn't.

"I'm Jennifer but call me Jen. I take care of the home and land when this one is playing city boy."

She couldn't imagine him toughing it out in the wilderness and his home certainly had luxury painted throughout. Christian tried to move past them quietly but Jen didn't miss a beat.

"Where do you think you're going? Where's my hug?" Christian looked at Ana and then back to Jen. Reluctantly he dropped his bags like a child doing it more for dramatic effect but really relieved as they approached the warm arms of someone they loved. He'd only acted this way once and that was with Grace.

"Hi Jen." Ana heard him say quietly. "I'm going to take our bags upstairs. I'm tired."

Jen pushed Christian away to a distance where she could study his face. "You look stressed." She commented narrowing her eyes at him. "More stressed than usual. You should be happy. Look at that beautiful fiancé of yours!" Ana shifted nervously now contemplating an escape with the bags herself.

"Yes, I know." He replied.

Ana immediately felt her mind begin to construct its armor. He sounded sincere and if she looked at him instead of the tree trunks with raging red cheeks, she might see if he were telling the truth. Of course not, she snapped at herself internally.

"Oh, you still make her blush. Well c'mon you two. I bet you're both exhausted. I'll walk you up to your room." So grateful for the distraction, she never realized that they were being escorted to the same room until they stood inside the master suite together. The conversation to the bedroom was white noise to her. She admired the architecture, the beautiful natural wood throughout, and the décor. She was visually overwhelmed with beauty even in the master, she felt overstimulated for a moment. A large fireplace decorated with the largest column of stones she'd ever laid eyes on took up almost an entire wall. Floor to ceiling windows gave them an unobstructed view to outside. A king-sized bed sat across from the fireplace adorning the only other pieces of décor in the room. The white oversized comforter brightened up the dark gold of the room while the dark brown fur throw draped at the foot of the bed grounded the room. Jen was still talking. Ana joined the conversation mid argument between Christian and Jen. Jen wanted Christian and Ana to sleep while Christian was no longer tired and preferred to stay up. It wasn't until she heard Jen talk about not needing sleep either and that she wanted to get everything ready for our stay that Ana uncovered the reason why he suddenly had energy. They'd have to sleep together….in the same bed…together.

"I am not arguing with you. Get some sleep. I'll wake you both in a couple of hours." Jen stormed out but not before throwing Ana a smile and Christian a glare of warning. Exhausted, Ana decided not to give him time to bitch about it or make some backhanded comment. Instead, she took her bag in the bathroom, changed into her silk shorts and camisole pajama set they packed for her, brushed her teeth, and walked back out right under the covers. She reached for the lamp beside her and shut it off, turning on her side and feigning sleep. For a minute, she only heard the sound of his shallow breathing before he finally moved into the bathroom. The shower came on moments later and eventually lulled her into a restless sleep.

She wasn't quite sure how long his shower lasted when she finally felt the dip of the bed and his heat radiating off him in waves even across the expanse of space he kept between them. Through the haze of her sleep, she kept aware of Christian next to her. His rigid posture never changed, his breathing was harsh and she knew by both these things he wasn't sleeping.

"Christian…" She muttered sleepily and frustrated. "Go to sleep."

"I would if I could." He snapped at her. "Some of us actually have things to worry about." He added defensively and Ana sat up clumsily, irritated that once he couldn't refuse the urge to always attack her. She blew at the fringe of her hair to see him better as one of her straps slid down as she sat up more. His eyes moved to her chest and hers followed noticing the exposed upper swell of her breast.

"Jesus, you're just making it worse." He growled at her as she hurried to fix herself. Sleep evaded her quickly then as Christian moved to sit at the side of the bed. His bared back muscles rippled hypnotically as he brushed at his thighs with frustration.

"Christian, I am not out to get you." She spoke softly moving towards him and settling herself next to him. He refused to meet her gaze and she sighed feeling resigned as usual. "I'm not here to hurt you."

"That's the problem. That I can actually battle against." He breathed harshly and she grabbed his hand.

"Not everything is a war."

"It feels that way with you. Every damn day that's what it feels like."

"Then pick a side."

"Both sides have risks."

"War involves risks Christian but truly your enemy isn't me." The "it's you" hung unspoken between them. "I'm not tired anymore. Go ahead and sleep." She stood only to feel his fingers wrap around her wrist.

"Stay." He demanded. It wasn't a question nor did it sound regretful. Every time he did things like that, she could feel herself falling deeper. There was nothing to hold onto, no sight at the bottom to break her fall just the faith that where ever he took her, she'd survive. She crawled back to her spot in the bed only to have him turn his back on her. Ana shook her head still reminding herself that it was one step in a better direction than they had. She watched the minute movements of his body as he fell asleep and her eyes became too heavy for her soon after.

Ana roused slowly out of sleep. She looked at Christian and stopped mid-stretch. His hair was plastered to his face with sweat covering the lines formed by his grimace. His body was rigid and his fists were clenched so tightly that white soon replaced any signs of lively pink.

"Christian." She spoke concerned moving to his side of the bed and sitting down speaking his name again. He didn't respond. His breaths grew harsher, the sound similar to that of air spitting through gritted teeth. Ana grabbed his fist gently hoping to rouse him slowly. Her head pulsed with the racing of her heart. It was fear raging through her, half for herself and half for him. She knew his fear of appearing vulnerable. It terrified her to think of what he might think of her if he woke up now but it also went against every bone in her body to leave him like that. Her mother had nightmares. They progressively grew worse especially after they placed her on Hospice. Ana reverted to the same soothing actions she performed with her. Stroking his forehead she made calming soothing sounds. She once read that the action bore the same effect as a mother comforting a child. Ana grabbed a Kleenex from the end table and wiped the sweat from his face. His features when not guarded were so much more handsome which seemed impossible until now. The knitting of his brows relaxed slowly. Pink returned to his hands as his fingers finally unwound themselves from fists. One last stroke to his cheek and she softly padded over to her bag and found some workout clothes and a bikini. She left the room completely conflicted.

Running had always been a release for her. She hated it as she hated doing laundry and dishes but the accomplished feeling afterwards was undeniable. Christian felt similar to those. Her feelings for him were always a constant push and pull effect and he did it unknowingly most of the time. He didn't overtly work for her attention nor did she think he cared half the time. That bothered her sometimes like right now after she wasn't quite sure where her feelings fell on the broad spectrum between dislike and well something a little more than that. Ana ran faster, pushed harder than the truth pounding at the walls she built. God, she couldn't imagine what his nightmares might entail. Okay, so maybe she did care, a little bit. Of course she did. God forbid she care for a simple man, one who had no fear to feel, to show emotions like Daniel but even Ana knew the differences. Christian felt magnetic while Daniel felt comfortable and safe. Magnetic never went away and safety was as temporary as comfort.

"Hey." Christian's voice broke through the pounding beats of her headphones as he pulled one out.

"Hey. How did you sleep?" Ana asked as she steadied herself on the sides of the treadmill. He actually looked rested for once. He was dressed in jeans and a long sleeved navy shirt.

"Good for once." He replied hesitantly like she'd somehow use that information against him. Rolling her eyes with the safety of the wall being her only witness, she drank some of her water before starting the treadmill again.

"I'm going for a short hike outside. Jen is out too."

"Okay." She replied throwing him a small smile over her shoulder as the belt began to move beneath her feet. He watched her for a moment before turning around and walking out. She ran until she had somewhat processed her thoughts. Most of the time it was justification after justification with disguised statements. Ana was very good at lying to herself. She ran for an hour before stripping out of her workout clothes and into her bikini. The pool was heated but cool enough to offer her some relief. It was completely encompassed by a room with exposed beams that she could stare at for hours. The sauna tempted her across the way while the theatre room she knew was close by also. She floated on her back enjoying the numbing silence of her ears being underwater. Closing her eyes she rid her head of the distractions and she came up with three realizations.

She cared for Christian.

She wasn't sure why.

Then the third truth emerged. It was Grace. It was their dinner and the night that Christian's past came into their discussion.

"The things she allowed to happen to Christian, it makes me physically ill." Grace's voice ran through her head more in her own now than the voice of her subconscious. That would forever define how she viewed him. It made her justify a lot of his behavior. It probably always would and that scared her. At what point would she stop allowing his past more power over her future?

Ana climbed out of the pool; already feeling the ache in her thighs from running. She called for Christian but there was no answer. Wrapped in a towel, she searched the woods from the living room windows. She was envious of his hike. There was nothing like being completely surrounded by nature and exploring all it had to offer. She hiked a lot at home. It was where she gathered most of her inspiration to paint. She showered and climbed back into their bed with a book. Christian's scent lingered everywhere and it completely engulfed her as she slept comfortably.

Waking up, the sky's blue color had turned to a gray hinting at the possibility of rain or snow. She wasn't quite sure of the forecast. Glancing at the time, Ana stretched reveling in the aftermath of her 3 hour nap. She pulled on a sweater and walked downstairs unnerved by both the silence and the lack of lights. The fire was reduced to glowing coals from neglect. She added more wood and called both Christian's and Jen's names. The silence grew heavy as she found some boots and made her way outside. The patio was almost the same size as the house. The landscape however still managed to make it seem tiny.

Wind bit at her cheeks with horrendous chill. Her heart began to race. Christian left for his hike six hours ago. All kinds of scenarios ran through her head. She imagined him unconscious with a broken leg after falling from some rocky cliff. Maybe a bear found him and that image was even more gruesome. It hit her like a bus forcing her to run. There were so much woods and though some of the branches were bare, the Pines made up for their exposure. She couldn't see much past the tree line which surrounded the entire home. The wind howled in her ears and when it quieted for seconds, the sticks breaking beneath her feet then filled that eerie silence.

"Christian!" She screamed, her voice breaking with her panic. Her chest burned with the cold and her racing breaths. The wind seemed to cover most of her screams. She saw the guest house and ran towards it hoping at the very least Jen was there if not Christian. The door was locked and the only light on came from the back porch.

"Jen!" She yelled as she banged on the door. There was no answer. Ana's fingers were going numb. She hadn't remembered to throw on a jacket. Her cheeks began to burn as she raced down to the pond. It had the best view, a 360 view of what surrounded her. Ana's legs trembled and her teeth chattered as she scanned the land for movement. God, she could not lose someone else, she kept repeating. Her tears felt too warm on her cheeks.

"Christian!" She screamed one last time. She'd never felt this kind of fear before. In fact it ventured to terror as she made her way back towards the house. Fear was one thing that was not knowing where Christian was. Terror was knowing that she was completely helpless with 400 acres of land surrounding her and the closest town over an hour away. Unable to handle the cold anymore, she ran back towards the house. She didn't stop until she was in his office and cradling the phone. Her hands made a rattling noise as she held it. She didn't even know the address of the home if she was to call 911 but they could trace a landline right?

Then she heard a door shut and she nearly fell from his office chair as she bolted from it. Christian strolled in nonchalantly, his cheeks red from being outside and his hair scruffy from his hat. He looked at her and then his expression changed to concern.

"What's wrong?" It was a funny thing how quickly fear turned to anger.

"Are you serious?! I have been worried sick about you. Didn't you hear me calling?" She screamed, her voice shrilly and bordering panic again. He held up his iPod wrapped with headphones.

"You can't do that Christian! You were gone for six almost seven hours! I was so scared something happened to you!"

"I didn't think you'd care." He answered with so much honesty she wanted to throw up and beat him with something at the same time. Instead, she turned and walked upstairs, shut the bedroom door behind her and slid down against the door.

"Ana." She heard his voice say in an unusually soft tone. She closed her eyes and refused to answer.

"Open the door." He asked again gently. "I'm sorry."

Ana lips trembled as she fought the tears but lost. Slowly she stood and opened the door.

"You're okay?" She asked searching his body for the injuries her imagination plagued her with just moments ago to find him completely intact. He gathered her into his arms pressing her face to his chest.

"I'm fine. I'm sorry." He said again as she sobbed into the fabric of his fleece pullover. He tightened his grip and she cried harder. All of the past hour rushed from her like raging river of tears. It wasn't graceful of her nor did she think she could truly control herself in that moment. She was just so overwhelmed with relief. She wasn't losing another person; she kept reminding herself until her sobs turned into broken soft cries. Christian moved them both to the bed as he pulled her legs up to cradle her in his lap.

"I didn't mean to be gone so long, I just lost track of time. I didn't mean to worry you. I honestly didn't think you'd care."

"Of course I care you big idiot!" She yelled as she hit his chest.

"Good because I've realized I care about you."

Some hike he had, she thought to herself.

"You picked a side." She commented unsure as to exactly how to feel about what he said.

"I'm moving towards it."

"I have really cool, really big guns on my side." He raised his eyebrows in a boyish way that showed every ounce of amusement his gray eyes could hold.

"My feet are moving faster."


	9. Chapter 8

_Hi everyone! I'm so sorry for the delayed update! I have been struggling with severe morning sickness so the chapter has taken me some time and to be honest I'm not 100% confident with it. But with time I generally struggle with a chapter more so I'm going to post and I'll probably edit it later until I'm happy with it. My writing mojo seems to be back but I can't promise how frequent the chapters will be until I'm feeling better. Right now my writing is pretty hit and miss. I hope you all enjoyed your holidays and you have a happy new year! I'll try and get a chapter up within a week! I'm excited to write their first lemon in the next chapter and insanely inspired right now. :) Enjoy. _

**Chapter 8**

Ana began to prepare dinner while Christian went to work out. She didn't understand why after his hike or how he had the strength but he was down there hopefully resolving the rest of his issues with physical exertion. Well she could only hope anyway. She washed the whole chicken in her hands before painting it with olive oil and sprinkling it with salt and pepper. Cutting onions and lemons, she stuffed them in the chicken before surrounding it in the roasting pan with red potatoes, carrots, and celery. Ruth had always claimed a roast chicken to be her favorite recipe. It took little time to prep and an hour and a half to roast. It also filled the home with the most amazing tantalizing scent.

Once she had it in the oven and everything washed and put away, she headed down to check on Christian. His body moved fluidly through the water with vicious purposeful strokes. She'd never have guessed him as a swimmer but he swam with practiced movement and he conquered the pool with assured confidence. Ana rolled the bottom of her leggings and sat at the edge of the pool watching the tides of his movements ripple against her skin. Twenty-five laps she counted before he noticed her and swam to meet her at the edge. Somehow his movements seemed overtly erotic. God, she had become such a pervert since that night.

"Dinner's cooking." She told him as he removed his goggles. His chest rose not as heavy as she thought it might with his workout.

"I didn't know you swim."

"It's a quiet workout." He shrugged. "I didn't do too well today though. I'm tired." He added as he pushed himself up on extended arms. Trails of water ran down the hard expanse of his chest and stomach. The ridges of his abs caught the rivulets of water like parched streams.

"Do you swim?" He asked pulling a towel to him and drying his hair. She laughed.

"Only if I'm being chased by a shark maybe." Now Christian replied with a small chuckle. "It's not my first choice for a workout. I struggled with it as a child. My mother always said it was because I was so stubborn."

"What do you mean?" He asked as she moved her fingers through the water.

"I think I was 6 or 7 when I first saw swimming on TV. It looked so easy. I remember thinking I can move my arms and legs like that no problem. Well at my swimming lesson the next week we were only supposed to kick our feet at the edge of the pool but instead I pushed off the side. I nearly drowned before someone from the edge pulled me back. It was my first reality check." She laughed out only to see Christian with a knowing smirk.

"But you did it again."

"Four times. I seem to be one of the lucky ones that have to learn the hard way." She joked but felt a frown emerge as she wondered if it were the same lesson she was currently learning with Christian.

"I admire tenacity."

"It was child's stupidity. My tenacity ended when I realized how tiring it really was." They both laughed again before climbing out.

"I'm going to shower, I'll be down soon."

"Okay." Ana answered, making her way upstairs. Already the smell of dinner permeated the air. Her mouth watered as she realized she had skipped lunch because her nerves were still wrought from earlier. Now they were intertwined with all the other feelings she couldn't quite grasp. They made progress. He cared and it made her heart jump to hear it but the moment was short lived. Christian returned to his armor of indifference and she wondered how long it would take to break through that. Not that it mattered; all they had was time now. She had 45 minutes left on the chicken so she went to the library to pick a new book for the next two days. The library was settled towards the back of the property. Floor to ceiling windows ran an entire wall while the rest were shelves dressed with books. Ana ran her fingers over the spines as she scanned their titles. A couch was set up in the corner overlooking the entire west corner of the property with a couple different throws lazily thrown over the oversized cushions. Her feet moved over the hardwood with little sound as she grabbed a throw, randomly picked a book, and settled onto the couch. The scenery outside drew her attention almost instantly. Mountains perched themselves in the distance, their peaks adorning caps of snow. She'd love to see this home in the depths of snow. Just her imagined visions of the log cabin decorated in glistening white inspired her. Missing her art studio, she decided to store it away for later use.

"We need to talk." Christian's voice broke through her intense reading. Looking up, he stood in gray sweatpants and a white V-neck with his hair still wet and unruly from his shower. He certainly was something to gawk at. He was toned to the point of perfection each muscle defined and not a visible ounce of body fat anywhere. He held two glasses in his hand, a wine glass and a tumbler both steady with his confident gait.

"Alcohol? Is this serious?" Ana asked, patting the space next to her as he handed her a glass of wine. Settling next to her, he pulled some of her throw from beneath her toes and moved her legs to drape over his lap. His touch sent shocks through her surging with more than excitement. His scent teased her senses even more as she became encompassed in subtle notes of musk and a fresh earthy scent. It was intoxicating and inviting.

"We need to make sure you understand what it means for you to become my wife."

He spoke with no remorse or discomfort. Ana took a sip of her wine reveling in the comfort of a potential buzz as she listened.

"The world I'm in is high stakes. Wives are both an asset and a liability. They can be used and manipulated to further intentions."

"Are you afraid that I'll be manipulated?"

"Yes."

"Christian, I can play the game."

"I know and you will because you'll have no choice but I just want you to understand…"

"That being your wife means being aware that I represent you and your company most of the time." Ana finished for him. "That it means you'll be gone two to three times a month on business and that I'll be attending events alone. You'll work late some nights if not most nights and finding time together will be like finishing a puzzle with missing pieces. It won't ever feel like enough."

It was then that she saw a semblance of remorse and guilt form on his face if only for a second that he allowed it.

"You don't have to apologize for it. I'll never resent you for doing your job Christian. In that regard I know what I'm getting myself into." He looked at her with a new expression one with undiluted admiration. Ana smiled warmly. Growing up her father had the same schedule and her mother made sure that being his wife never defined her.

"We have the Annual Alzheimer's dinner at the MET in New York next week."

"I know. Danielle already emailed me the guest list. I've gotten almost all of the names memorized along with their pictures."

"You have?"

Ana sighed and moved her wine to the side table. Raising herself onto her knees and putting her thumbs at Christian's forehead she began to massage outward. He stiffened at her touch but eventually relaxed beneath her fingers.

"You're warm. Do you feel okay?" Ana asked as she pressed the back of her hand to his forehead.

"I'm fine." He growled back with annoyance. Ana narrowed her eyes at him before settling back under her blanket.

"You don't have to worry about me. I can do this so can you just relax."

"I never relax."

"Not even during sex?" Ana snapped her mouth shut and mentally berated herself for even asking it. A slight smirk appeared on his face which made her feel even more embarrased.

"Not even then." He shrugged. Before she could comment, he was already standing.

"Let's eat." Ana smiled up at him trying to move away from the sticky territory she got them into. One of these days they'd be able to talk about issues other than the superficial topics they had become all too familiar with but it didn't have to be tonight.

They ate dinner heavy with conversation about the cabin and his land. No one knew of its location. It was as private as he could make it. He liked the property because of its seclusion and bought it because Carrick complained that it was unsafe to be so far from civilization or at least a bar. He talked more to her than he had the past four months and she listened intently, asking questions so he would continue. His speech when not measured was almost melodic with his low resonant tone lifting in places of excitement. The third glass of scotch probably aided in his uninhibited behavior.

"I'm going to head upstairs and watch a movie." She told him after cleaning up dinner and making herself some hot chocolate.

"What movie?"

"Does my answer affect whether you'll come or not?" Ana asked playfully.

"Yes." Rolling her eyes, she could only smile at his answer.

"You pick then."

Upstairs, Ana decided against changing into her pajamas considering they bordered the thin line to lingerie. The fire roared with newfound intensity after Christian stoked it and he ended up pulling her into his side after he lay down. Tucking her under his arm, he began to browse the movie and TV selection. His chest was hard beneath her cheek promising her fantasies if she lingered there too long. There was something so safe and comforting about being held by a man, especially this one. If she needed protection, she had no doubts he could provide it.

Christian ended up picking a political thriller but she couldn't say how much of it she watched before she fell asleep. The drum of his heart lulled her easily and his heat comforted her until it didn't. Ana woke to Christian drenched in sweat from a fever. It took a few moments for her panic to subside. A fever when her mother was in chemo always gave her extreme anxiety. It took minutes to realize the difference between the two situations but her hands still trembled as she moved to wake him.

"Christian." She ushered gently pulling their blanket off and shaking him softly. He roused slowly with a groan.

"I feel like shit." He moaned as he struggled to stand up. It took two tries and two refusals to her offers to help before he began to make his way to the bathroom. Ana went to the kitchen getting a pitcher of water and medicine before heading back up.

Christian was on the bathroom floor cradling the toilet with both hands when she walked in.

Rubbing his back as he threw up, she waited until he was almost done before wetting a washcloth and getting his toothbrush ready. The motions came with such ease that none of it bothered her. She'd done this exact process with her mother several times during her chemotherapy.

As Christian brushed his teeth, she turned on the shower and went to change their sheets. She thought he'd be done by the time she finished but he was still sitting on the edge of the bathtub hunched over his knees.

"Everything okay?" Ana asked as she crouched before him. Her fingers moved the strands of hair plastered to his head to see him better.

"I'm just working up the energy." He answered shakily, his voice hoarse from earlier. She held out her hand and pulled him up.

"Would it help if I showered with you?" He stared at her uncertain for what felt like forever. She wasn't uncomfortable with her body or insecure about him seeing her naked but the intimacy of showering together unnerved her.

"It would help." He replied slowly and with hints of a smirk before taking off his pants and opening the shower door. All of his movements were shaky and almost uncoordinated which seeing him that way made him feel more real to her. Taking a deep breath she stripped quickly. His frame even in the massive expanse of his walk in shower seemed overpowering. He was leaning against the glass wall under the shower head when she climbed in. Hesitantly she reached for the soap and washcloth and approached him slowly. It wasn't the first time she'd seen him naked but holy hell he was the type of body her paintbrush yearned to paint. Not one of their subjects from her art classes looked like him. Starting at his shoulders, she moved the washcloth slowly over the curve to his neck before moving it down his back. His muscles rippled beneath her hand as she washed with languid sweeps. Her heart raced with the firing of her nerves and the water showered them both with heat.

"Turn around." She directed after washing his legs. He shifted slowly before facing her. Christian stared at her raking his eyes down her body before meeting her eyes with a measured amount of submission. His chest was hard beneath her hands and his stomach even harder. It was a slight change but his breathing became rasping. In a split second he had her turned and pinned against the glass. His lips raked across her forehead before he sagged against her.

"If I had the energy, I'd have you up against the glass with my cock buried in you." He growled to her and she felt his erection against her stomach. Christian groaned in frustration.

"You should leave." He rasped pressing his thick shaft harder against her wet skin. Heat bloomed everywhere from her hips to the tips of her fingers and toes. Closing her eyes she willed herself to leave but her efforts weren't great. In all honesty, she didn't want to leave.

"Here." She whispered running her fingers through his hair and moving his head to rest on her shoulder. "Rest your weight against me." He looked at her confused for a moment before he nuzzled against her neck. She kissed his cheek and took him in her hand.

He was heavy and stiff in her palm. She stroked slowly at first enjoying the pulsing veins against her hand. His teeth nipped at her neck, his breathing guttural and hot against her skin. Scouring his back gently with her other hand, his entire weight fell on her. His cock hardened even more as she fisted him faster. Ana let her head settle back against the glass as she felt her arousal surge through her in vicious waves.

She pressed the underside of his cock against her stomach, running her hand against him faster. He began to thrust against her and she decorated the curve of his shoulder with soft kisses. Feeling his fingers dig into her clawing at her skin, she knew he was close. With both her hands she closed around him and moved them in tandem. She felt the warm spatter of his cum against her breasts as she slowed her hands. Milking him until he shuddered and completely sagged against her, she closed her eyes and tried to slow her breathing.

Their skin met with each heaving breath and Ana trailed her fingers lightly down the sides of his ribs. Her legs were jello from supporting his weight for so long and the heat of the shower and Christian began to get to her. Gently, she maneuvered them both back under the shower head. He watched as she washed herself and she tried to block him out but his stare felt as tangible as the water raining down her body. His jaw clenched tight when she finally opened her eyes and even with the intimacy of what just happened between them, she couldn't handle the weight of his studying expression.

As she escaped the shower and dried off, she was glad to be dressed in a robe when he finally emerged. She handed him a towel straining with effort not to look anywhere lower than his chest.

"Do you need any more help?"

"I'm fine now."

"Okay, I'm going to make you some soup. I'll bring fresh water up and more aspirin."

Ana changed into underwear and one of Christian's shirts. All she had left that they packed was her lingerie and that just wasn't happening. Having some space helped her begin to process what she just did. She gathered the leftover chicken from the night before and started to heat some chicken broth. She cut vegetables with little concentration. All of her thoughts remained with Christian in the shower. Ana wished she were the girl that didn't care so much. She wished she didn't care so much about her home but most of all she wished she didn't care so much about Christian. She wanted to be the girl that felt less that had more control over her emotions.

Instead, she felt everything and she cared too much. There was such a blurred line as to what she should submit to and what she shouldn't. Certain emotions seemed useless to fight considering she was about to become his wife but then her fearful side reminded her she didn't have to resign to it all. The hard part though was choosing what to resign to.

It took her probably twenty minutes to carry his food upstairs. The size of the house didn't help and her OCD refused to allow one drop of his soup or water to spill. It also gave her time to gather some sort of explanation if he asked why she did it. And she came up with nothing besides she wanted to and that feeling him hard against her stirred desire not nearly satisfied by what she did. She wanted more.

Christian had his arm draped across his eyes as she walked in. Tangled in the sheet, she could tell he was naked by the visible curve of the sheet that rested between his thighs.

"Christian, can you sit up?" Slightly he moved his arm away to look at her as if seeing what she had was worth the effort. Releasing a groan, he pushed himself up against the headboard closing his eyes as he settled. She set the tray on the end table and reached for his water.

"I have Nyquil and Dayquil here. Which would you like?"

"Nyquil. I want to sleep." Christian murmured before opening his eyes. "I can do it by myself." He snapped swiping both the water and medicine from her hands.

"I know. I'm just trying to help."

"I don't need help." He growled at her as he moved to grab the chicken soup she just made for him.

"Well get over it because that's what I plan to do while you're sick." She spat back and he looked like he'd been slapped with shock. "You are not alone anymore." She sighed after regaining some of her composure. Moving her hand to his she squeezed tightly. "I'm here and I'm going to be your wife and I plan to care for you when and where I can because I want to not because you need it."

"You want to?"

"Yes." She breathed. "That's what people do when they care about someone."

Christian drew in a deep breath after measuring what she said for a moment. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay just can we tone down on the push and pull for a while. You're giving me whiplash." He let out huff of laughter.

"I'll try."

"Good." She replied before moving the tray of food over his lap. "Now eat." She demanded pressing her lips to his forehead. As she made her way to the bathroom to dry her hair, she stopped when she heard her name.

"I'm not used to having someone to answer to."

"You're not answering to me Christian. You're just listening and it's not a weakness."

As she dried her hair, Christian ate and he was finishing the bowl as she walked back in.

"Do you want some more?"

"No. This medicine is starting to kick in and I'm tired. Come lay with me." She moved the tray off the bed and climbed over his lap. He curled around her with his chest pressed to her back inhaling the scent of her hair as she moved it to fan the pillow above them.

"I like the smell of your hair." He whispered sleepily as his hands tightened around her waist. She could feel his naked body every curve, bulge, and hard muscle against her expand with each breath and movement.

"Good because there's a lot of it." She joked back.

"Hmm." He hummed appreciatively as his breaths moved to a deep and rhythmic pace.

"Thank you." She heard him say against the skin of her neck before pressing a kiss to her exposed column. He was asleep before she could answer. She turned towards him running her fingers over the relaxed skin of his face. Asleep, he looked younger than his thirty years. The hardened expression he wore with such ease disappeared and she was left with untainted handsome features that looked boyish with his contentment. Ana wasn't sure how long she stared at him for just exploring the planes of his face and relishing how relaxed he looked but according to the clock next to her bed it had been a half hour. Damn it. She was falling for him. And she was falling hard.

They spent the next three days in bed and Christian even extended their stay by a day. He spent the entire flight home working. They were lucky enough to have their phones and laptops waiting for them as they boarded. Christian was already on his second webinar from what she could hear from the bedroom.

"Your bridal shower is in a couple days." Christian commented as they pulled away from the airport. The familiar surroundings felt good.

"I know. Your mom and sister have been calling me non-stop."

"They have?"

"Yep. I asked your sister to be my maid of honor. "God, Mia's scream could've been heard from two miles away and that was through the phone. But Ana lost most of her friends when she isolated herself over the past couple years and Mia would be standing with her regardless. She also liked Mia. The girl had no filter and it wasn't a boastful or hateful thing like some people claim so they can be openly rude. She just truly was so excited with everything she said that even she couldn't control what came out of her mouth. Her personality was one infectious pack of pink bubblegum and being Ana she loved colorful people.

"Yeah, she called, emailed, and texted me that after you asked. Thank you for that."

"Sure." He squeezed her hand as they drove drawing a smile from her.

They pulled up to her front door and the sight was bittersweet. She wasn't quite ready to be free of Christian yet and by the time he let pass before he opened his door, he didn't either. Standing at the front door was reminiscent of some of the first dates she had.

"I'll miss you in my bed." He said shyly. His hands were rubbing at his jeans nervously. "Will you have dinner with me tomorrow at my home?"

"I'd love to." He stepped closer at her acceptance and twined his hand through her hair resting his palm against her head.

"I can kiss you now." He whispered against her cheek as she breathed him in.

"Mhmm." She answered before he forced silence upon her with his lips. It was their first real kiss void of social expectation and hesitancy. They both wanted it desperately. He pulled her against him taking her deeper into a world of desire with his tongue as it moved inside her with promise of how much more he wanted. Soon she was moaning into his mouth and threading her hands into his hair seeking more of him. The front light turning on separated them but only their lips. He kept his forehead firmly pressed against hers breathing hard enough to dry the moisture he had left on her.

"I'll see you tomorrow." She whispered laying a soft kiss to his cheek before opening the door. He grabbed her wrist making her turn back towards him. Christian looked utterly lost and irresistible at the same time with his swollen lips and messy hair.

"I care about you."

"I care about you too." She spoke warmly.

"Christian." She called after him knowing that demanding something of him had the ability to either piss him off or turn him on by the challenge.

"No more women." She ordered as he faced her again. He ran his eyes down her body and then lingered on her lips.

"Done."


End file.
